


Heaven's Full And Hell Won't Have Me

by whiskeydays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean, Improper Use of a Rosary, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Priest Kink, Priest Sam, Rosary Kink, Sam Winchester Drinks Demon Blood From Dean Winchester, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7651282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeydays/pseuds/whiskeydays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight of Hell Dean is on a killing spree throughout the Midwest when he makes a pit stop in a town that turns out to be much more interesting than Dean would have thought. Who is the mysterious Father Winchester and why does he seem to be immune to Dean's powers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sing To Me The Lonesome Demon Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summaries as usual. I love dark, gory wincest (even though the boys are not related in this one) and I'm a sucker for the whole priest thing so I decided to give it a try. The title is from Bring Me the Horizon's 'And the Snakes Start to Sing". I modified the abilities Knights of Hell usually possess to suit the story better but I try to stay as true to the series as possible. And since I've been to church maybe five times during my life, I have no idea what actually happens there so I just googled it, hope I'm not totally off :D Hope you like it and let me know what you think :) And yeah not beta read so probably contains a lot of mistakes, I apologize in advance :/
> 
> English is still not my native language and I own nothing else than the story (characters etc belong to the Kripke Enterprises or some other lucky bastard)

“Home, I stay  
I'm in, come in  
Can you feel my hips  
In your hands  
And I'm laying down  
By your side  
I taste the sweet  
Of your skin

Take off your clothes  
Blow out the fire  
Don't be so shy  
You're right  
You're right

Take off my clothes  
Oh bless me Father  
Don't ask me why  
You're right  
You're right

In my heart dress  
Raise so much faster  
I drawn myself in holy water  
And both my eyes  
Just got so much brighter  
And I saw God  
Oh yeah so much closer  
In the dark  
I see your smile  
Do you feel my heat  
On my skin”  
(Imany- Don’t be so shy)

 

Dean Campbell was drawn to churches. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the Blade’s desire to connect with its divine roots. Or maybe it was Dean’s twisted, inner masochist who wanted to test his luck and feel the shivers on his skin which only hollow ground caused. Or maybe it was the people who went to church. Dean loved to sit among them, no one knowing that the Devil the dear Father was preaching about was sitting among his precious sheep. Dean loved to sit in the back of the church and observe people. Being a Knight of Hell gave him the ability to read people’s minds to some extent. He knew who was sleeping with the nanny and who was taking the ADHD medication prescribed to their child. It was exhilarating, seeing all those people act so high and mighty when in reality they were all deviants. It was like a personal peep show for Dean.  


Unfortunately, after some time it got boring. Same faces, same sins. Run of the mill people just weren’t versatile enough for Dean’s taste. So he moved around. A lot. Usually right after thinning the herd a bit. Taking the worst deviants to the only place they really belonged, down below. One might think it was because there was still a drop of humanity in Dean which made him only kill the worst of the worst; rapists, murderers and pedophiles. But that wasn’t the case. 

During his killing spree throughout the Midwest Dean had developed a liking to human blood. He had tried different types; children, virgins, whores and priests. All ends of the spectrum and quite many in between. But he had noticed the type that got him going the most were murderers. People who had taken someone else’s life. Who had felt like a God when they had watched the life leaving their victim. Who had held someone else’s faith in their hands. That type of blood excited Dean the most, just the thought of it made him grow hard inside his jeans. That kind of blood was the best, it tasted salty and exciting and it made his skin tingle and jolts of electricity run up and down his spine. It was like his own, personal heroin.

He had once drank the blood of a man who had killed seven children and raped three of them. Dean had kept the man alive for a week, feeding off of him, barely leaving the abandoned house he was occupying back then. He had been so high his cock had been hard for almost a week straight and he couldn’t make his eyes green even though he had tried. They had been constantly solid black. The demon in him had felt like it was on fire, burning his insides in the most fascinating way. He had taken it all out on the man, raping him and feeding off of him the whole week until the man had become so weak from loss of blood and being starved that he was no use to Dean anymore. He had sliced the man’s throat and left him choke to death in the pool of his own blood, not caring to witness the grim ending of a grim being.

But now it was new town and new church for Dean. He had been driving around aimlessly, fucking and killing a couple of prostitutes as he went. When he had felt bored, he had taken the next exit off the main road that seemed like it might lead him into some sort of a town. It wasn’t a big place, maybe 50,000 inhabitants combined but the churches! Dean’s mouth had almost watered as he had driven through the town. There seemed to be a church on every corner. Dean grinned triumphantly to himself. He had hit the jackpot. The more churches usually meant the more deviants in need of salvation.

He chose the only motel in the good side of town. That was the problem with good neighborhoods; they tended to have nice hotels and no motels. But Dean liked motels. He didn’t like the staff keeping too much an eye on what he was doing or where he was going and he liked the low lifes infested in those kinds of places; drug dealers, hookers and what not. So he paid for his room and went for a drive. He would choose the closest church he could find. He preferred the good side of any town because of its effect on the church goers; rich folk tended to have much juicier secrets than their poorer counterparts and they hid it better. Dean had always been a sucker for a good challenge.  


He drove pass a fancy looking church, all arches and gargoyles and shit that screamed ‘money, money, money!’. Dean parked his precious ’67 Chevy Impala to the church parking lot and got out of the car. At the front door it had said that the evening service would be held at 7 pm, so he still had some time. Dean leaned against the Impala, taking a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket and flipping one between his lips. He lit up the cigarette and just stood there, lost in his thoughts. Dean blew out smoke rings and watched them disappear into the darkening night.

Suddenly something caught his attention. A man came out from the back door of the church. He was wearing a long, black priest gown that clearly did no justice to his nice figure. Dean’s eyes lingered on the perfect shoulder-waist-ratio the man seemed to possess. The priest went to the dumpsters behind the church to throw away the garbage bag he was carrying in his hand. As he turned to go back in, he saw Dean leaning against the car. The priest smiled to Dean, his hazel eyes warm and welcoming and the dimples on his cheeks popping. He had a shoulder-length, brown hair that the evening sun reflected off, making the man’s hair look like it was dipped in amber.

The priest went back inside and Dean flicked his cigarette away. “Well hello there, Father”, he said to himself and started walking to the other side of the building, humming ‘Hey Jude’ contently. So far this church seemed like an excellent pick.

***********

When the people started to flow in, Dean was already seated in the back row of the church. He barely managed to stop the devilish grin from forming on his lips as he observed the people that came inside. An adulterer. Addicted to painkillers. A shoplifter. Didn’t call the ambulance in time so his 80-year-old husband died of a heart attack and she inherited millions. Dean smiled to himself. Yes, this would be a lot of fun.

As the service started Dean was pleased to see the handsome priest from before. He walked behind the pulpit and the small chatter in the church quieted. As the priest started speaking about the Word of God or whatever, Dean had excellent time to observe him. Then he noticed something that made him sit up more and stare at the priest more intensely. He tried to read the man’s mind to find out what kinds of filthy secrets was the man of God hiding but he couldn’t. Usually when Dean went through people’s minds, it was like an Internet page with lot of pop up adds; he got a lot of information he didn’t need nor want but it was rather easy to block out the unwanted thoughts and focus on the more interesting ones.

But when Dean tried it on Father Sexy, he got nothing. Just some feelings and even they were mild. Dean bit his lower lip, focusing all his powers on the man but the only thing he got out of it was a bleeding lip. The priest’s mind was like a radio that was stuck in between stations, only white noise coming out of it. Dean was perplexed. He had never experienced anything like that before. He was a Knight of Hell for fuck’s sake! No human was immune to his powers.

Dean sat on the edge of his seat for the rest of the service and when it ended, he remained in the church until the last people were shaking hands with the priest at the door. Dean joined the small line, staring at the priest who was now shaking hands with an elderly lady, smiling like he actually enjoyed spending time with these people. Dean grimaced. He was feeling anxious, he wanted to get closer to the man, stare into those hazel eyes and find out all of the priest’s dirty secrets. Dean was tapping on the ground anxiously with his right foot, swearing to some unknown deity that he would rip the throat out of the sweet old lady in front of him if she didn’t move her ancient ass so Dean could get face to face with the gorgeous man.

Then at last. Dean was the last person on the line and as he stepped forward he was finally face to face with the hazel-eyed priest. The man smiled to Dean. “Hello! I don’t think we have met before, are you new to the church? I like to think I know everyone who comes here personally”, the priest said. Dean smiled, a slow smile that he had perfected to trap his prey. All the women and most of the men were powerless before it. “Well yes, Father, I most certainly am new, how nice of you to notice. I just moved to town and word on the streets is that this is the best church around, thanks to its caring Father I dare to bet is none other than the one standing right before me”, Dean said, his voice rough and tempting and dangerous like venom dripping from snake’s teeth. The priest didn’t seem to be taken aback though, Dean noted to himself. Interesting. 

The priest offered his hand for Dean to shake and smiled, a genuine wide smile that lit up his whole face. “Well they might be exaggerating a bit, even though I must say I am very dedicated to my church and the people who come here. I’m Father Winchester”, the man introduced himself. Dean took the man’s hand and shook it. “Very nice to meet you, Father Winchester. I’m Dean Campbell”, Dean said and stared the priest in the eyes. Usually skin contact amplified Dean’s powers and made it easier for him to get inside people’s heads. But even that didn’t work with Father Winchester. Dean felt very uneasy. He fought the urge to latch onto Father Winchester’s neck and suck out all the sweet nectar that was pumping in the man’s veins. Blood never lied. 

“Nice to meet you too, Dean. So you think you might become one of our regulars?” Father Winchester asked, smiling ever so friendly. Dean decided to play this game. He liked challenges anyway. His smile was sultry and he ran his tongue over his lower lip before answering, feeling satisfied when Father Winchester’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue. “Most certainly, Father. I was very impressed of what I just saw inside and I’m very excited to see more of your… services”, Dean kept a meaningful pause between his words, eyeing the good Father up and down, eating him with his eyes in a way that could not have gone unnoticed by the priest. To Dean’s disappointment the only reaction he got out of the priest was a raised eyebrow.

“Well that is very nice to hear! We have morning service every morning at 10 am and the evening service is 7 pm but I must say, the evening service has been much more popular. And on Sundays we have the mass of course”, Father Winchester said, putting his hand in his pocket, digging around a bit until he handed Dean a slightly wrinkled pamphlet that had all the church’s information in it. Dean took it and put it his pocket. “It was nice meeting you, Father”, Dean said, putting the emphasis on the word ‘Father’, making it sound like a dirty word. Dean was pleased to see the Father licking his lips. A nervous gesture the man himself was probably not even aware of. ‘Good, he’s not totally unaffected’, Dean thought to himself. 

“Likewise, Dean. I hope to see more of you in the services”, Father Winchester said, his gaze going so quickly to Dean’s lips and back to his eyes that an ordinary human wouldn’t have noticed it but Dean was no ordinary human. Hell, he wasn’t even an ordinary demon. So Dean smiled and nodded to Father Winchester. “Most certainly, Father Winchester”, he said, giving the man one last good look up and down before descending the stairs and walking to his Impala. Dean smiled contently to himself. He didn’t need to look back to know Father Winchester’s eyes were on him the whole way to the car.


	2. Night So Black the Darkness Hums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me freaking forever, I had crisis with how to continue the story and how I want it to play out in the end. Finally I got it all figured out so the next chapter shouldn't take as long :) probably littered with mistakes (still not beta read). I tried to filter them out but I read it through so many times I became cross-eyed. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless and let me know what you think :)

“Let’s do what devils do  
Hang each other when no one’s around  
Why can’t I torture you?  
Giving, then you take it away  
The little things you do  
Simply, I love your evil ways  
Your ways, your ways, your ways

Prey for me, I think I owe you an apology  
Somehow you bring the violence out in me  
I’m just a shell of what I used to be  
Passion is sometimes a fucked up thing for me

This fire has followed you  
Nothing’s left, you’re dead on the ground  
How can I covet you?  
Give you hell and you can’t rebound  
My soul infected you  
Blackened thoughts  
They run through your head  
The little things you do”  
(Korn-Prey for Me)

The next week Dean fell into a nice rhythm. He slept during the days and went to the evening services. He sat in the back pew all silent and calm, staring at the good Father. On few evenings he left the service disappointed because he hadn’t looked at the information pamphlet and hadn’t noticed that not all the services were led by Father Winchester. But the evenings Father Winchester was present, Dean sat silent and observed.

He wasn’t even interested in the fellow church goers anymore. All his interest towards them had flown out the window the moment he had shook hands with the dear Father. After the services the routine was always the same; Dean was the last one to exit the church, he went to the door to talk with Father Winchester and used all the tricks he had in his book to make the man nervous. He licked his lips, touched the man seemingly innocently on the shoulder, eyed him up and down. But nothing worked. Father Winchester stayed as calm as ever. Nothing seemed to disturb his zen. Dean had become a planet. A violent, desperate planet orbiting around Father Winchester, wanting nothing more than to touch and lick and suck and taste and penetrate. Desperate to be seen. Father Winchester was the blinding sun, puncturing the veil of pitch black darkness Dean liked to surround himself with.

And every night ended the same for Dean. He cruised through town, angry and filled with pent up energy. He drove to the local strip club or a someplace he knew he could get hookers from and selected his victim. Women with dimples and hazel eyes. Men with shoulder length brown hair and broad shoulders. Dean fucked them raw and hard, had to rape most of them because they complained about him being too rough or they didn’t want him to fuck them raw. He sank his teeth into the yielding flesh of their necks or into the femoral artery on their inner tights and drank deep. Drained them dry like a vampire and dumped the bodies to the nearby wasteland. 

And just before the morning came he returned to the motel, his hands bloody and the Blade tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He took a shower and watched the blood wash down the drain. Then he dried himself up and sat on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette and watching some black and white movie but not really paying attention, his mind elsewhere. On Father Winchester. He had to know the man’s secrets. It had become and obsession for him. Every night at the service he watched the man move. Effortless and beautiful. Dean wanted to see what was under that priest gown. 

He wanted to plunge into that burning heat, he wanted to see blood run down the good Father’s thighs as Dean fucked him raw against the altar. He wanted, no, needed to rip that throat open and let the man of God bleed into the same cauldron he used for giving his herd the church wine. Dean wanted to sit at the altar and watch the man bleed dry at his feet, drink his blood from the cauldron and look up at the mural on the ceiling. He wanted to yell ‘where are you now God? Your most precious child needs you and you’re still nowhere to be found you piece of shit excuse for a dad!’ 

But so far Dean had done none of that. It was ten minutes to seven and Dean was sitting in the back pew again. Unfortunately, this time his peace was disturbed by a blonde woman in her late thirties. Long wavy hair, huge silicone implants, heels almost as big as Dean’s cock and a tight dress that left very little to the imagination even though it was clearly meant to be church appropriate. Dean eyed him up and down. Very nice. He remembered this woman being the same one he had noticed his first night at the service. The one with a dead husband and billions in her pocket.

“Well hi there! I’ve seen you here a couple of times now and thought I’d come and introduce myself. I’m Valerie. You must be new here, I think I would remember a face like yours if I had seen it before”, Valerie said to Dean and flashed a perfect white smile. Dean’s eyes lingered on the dental work in Valerie’s mouth. Expensive job. Dean let a slow smile form on his lips, giving Valerie a good look up and down that left very little to the imagination. 

Dean was very pleased when it resulted with Valerie’s thoughts going to dark places. Dean saw fast flashes of himself naked, fucking Valerie from behind in a huge four-poster bed. Unfortunately, in Valerie’s mind Dean’s cock wasn’t quite as big as it was in reality. Dean might just have to show the woman what a real monster cock was. The thought of fucking the woman in question, tied to the four-poster bed Dean had seen in her mind, made Dean’s heart race.

“That’s mighty nice of you, Valerie. Yes, I am new to town. My name is Dean. Would you like to join me for the service?” Dean said, his voice sultry, emphasizing the southern drawl he had. His instinct told him that Valerie would like it. The content sigh Dean heard when he went through Valerie’s mind told him he had been right. This was a fantasy of hers. Lower class, rugged looking man with a huge cock. Dean could play that part. Valerie sat next to him, looking pleased with herself. Dean gave him a kind smile, using all his willpower to hide the dark thoughts running through his mind from showing in his expression.

“So Dean. What are you in town for? Just passing through or staying longer?” Valerie practically purred. Oh, this was almost too easy. “Well ma’am, I’m working at the local construction site and dunno when we’re finished with the job so I suppose I’m staying for a while”, Dean answered. “Oh please, don’t ma’am me! Makes me feel like an old lady”, Valerie giggled and put his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Old lady? Well that must mean I’m ancient since your pretty face can’t be a day older than twenty-five”, Dean flattered, hating himself. He hated stupid, cliché compliments but he also knew people. Those would be the words Valerie wanted to hear.

Valerie giggles again, blushing lightly. “Hush you! I bet you say that to all the women”, Valerie said, batting her eyelashes in a seductive manner. Dean smiled. This was just too easy. “It is rare for me to have a lady as pretty as yourself to chat with. Tell me Valerie, would you like to join me for drinks after the service?” Dean asked, his voice laced with lust, promising Valerie all the things she secretly wanted. And as Dean had anticipated, Valerie flashed him one of her whiter than white perfect smiles. “That’s mighty nice of you to ask Dean and yes, I would love to join you for drinks”, Valerie answered.

The service started and Dean paid no attention to Valerie anymore, even though he could see her glancing at him from time to time. Dean’s mind was a one-way track during the service. Father Winchester’s low, soft voice and the white noise coming from the man washed over Dean, drowning him under its soothing waves. But deep down inside Dean was still anxious. He had too much pent up energy. It was mostly because of the Mark. It demanded action and enjoyed all things bloody and gory. Dean knew he needed a game plan. He couldn’t spend the next eternity coming to the services and ogling at Father Winchester. Waiting wasn’t in his nature and he sure as hell wasn’t a patient man. 

When the service finally ended Dean acted against the burning desire inside himself. He wanted nothing more than to talk to Father Winchester and stare into those hazel eyes but he fought the urge and led Valerie out to the parking lot before the man of God had enough time to come to the door to shake hands with them. He was anxious. He needed something to take the edge off so he lit up a cigarette and turned to Valerie, giving her his most charming smile. “So Valerie. My car or yours? I must admit I’m not yet familiar with the town but I’m sure you know some nice place that’s intimate enough for a… conversation”, Dean flattered, his voice velvet soft.

Valerie smiled at Dean like she had just won the lottery or been crowned Miss USA. “Yes I know a perfect place for… conversations. That black, shiny thing is your car? Sexy”, Valerie cooed and batted her lashes. Dean gave her a lazy grin. Even as a demon it always made him feel pleased when someone complimented Baby. “Well yes, yes it is. So my car then?” Dean asked and flicked the rest of his cigarette away and opened the passenger side door so Valerie could slide in. Dean took one last lingering look at the church, determined to find out the secrets its Father was hiding.

**********

Dean followed Valerie’s instructions and they drove to a middle class part of the town. Dean parked the Impala in front of a nice but mediocre looking cocktail bar. The secluded location indicated that this was the place Valerie took all her conquests to so her upper class posh friends wouldn’t see the men she associated with on her free time. 

Dean was taking the part of a working class gentleman to heart. He opened the door for her and ordered them drinks and pulled the chair for her. The only thing that kept the smile on Dean’s face was the thought of finding a hooker or a stripper that looked like Valerie and ripping her insides out with his bare hands. Dean knew he couldn’t kill Valerie, not yet at least. He had decided to stay in town a bit longer than he had originally planned so he needed to lay low for a while. Lucky for Valerie though, she would be allowed to keep her intestines intact at least a day longer.

When they were seated in a small, secluded booth in the far end corner of the bar, Dean took a long sip from his whiskey and let all his guards down. He needed to relax to be able to absorb all of Valerie’s thoughts. He wasted no time getting to the point, even though for Valerie it might have seemed like an obvious conversation starter.

“So Valerie, how long have you been going to Father Winchester’s services?” Dean asked and leaned over the table, licking his lips, pleased to see Valerie’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue. “Ever since my late husband Seymour died. It was too hard facing the same people at my old church every day, I just couldn’t handle how much they felt sorry for me. Widowed at such young age is a tragedy people don’t easily forget. I heard Father Winchester takes really good care of his church and his people so it was not a hard choice to make”, Valerie said with a rehearsed expression of sorrow and longing. Unfortunately, her thoughts gave her away. Dean saw fast flashes of people gossiping behind Valerie’s back about how she must’ve had something to do with his husband’s death since he had dropped dead just a year after they had gotten married. Dean saw Valerie going from church to church until there was an image of Father Winchester standing on the stairs of his church.

Then Valerie’s thoughts shifted into darker themes. She had clearly chosen the church because she thought she might get closer to the man of God if she acted like a mourning widow. She assumed no man (especially one who had had no action since, well, forever) could resist her charms and a priest would tell nobody because it would be just as bad for him as it would be for her. If not worse. Dean saw fast, dark flashes of the same four-poster bed he had seen before in Valerie’s thoughts but this time it was Father Winchester fucking Valerie from behind. Dean was pleased with the sight of the naked Father wearing nothing but a rosary around his neck but disappointed that Valerie assumed Father Winchester’s cock to be bigger than Dean’s.

Dean snapped back into reality from his thoughts and continued with the subject that was handed to him on a silver platter. “Yes, father Winchester seems like a good man. A man who really cares about people”, Dean said, adding a warm, kind smile to his words. “He sure does. Not only does he manage the church very well but he also does charity work at the soup kitchen and runs a support group for stray kids and young people with drug problems at the community center”, Valerie said with an angelic smile but once again her thoughts were telling Dean the exact opposite.

Dean studied with interest as Valerie’s inner voice spoke over her kind words, venomous like a snake in the garden of Eden, slithering through the beautiful landscape, poisoning everything in its way. ‘Yeah right, those poor kids are in such good hands. Takes one to know one. Bet he’s some kind of a faggot too, that’s why he probably didn’t want to fuck me. Or maybe he’s fucking one of the kids in exchange for drugs. Maybe he could sell me some coke… Bet he’s still using something, nobody’s so fucking calm and collected all the time. Once an addict, always an addict’, Valerie’s inner voice chuckled maliciously. 

Dean’s eyebrow rose on its own before he could control his facial expressions. Drugs? Well, well, well, seemed like the good Father was in fact hiding some skeletons in his closet. Quite delicious ones in fact, at least for Dean. He had seen many times what demon blood did to addicts, even the ex-ones. They went totally haywire, lost all control, begged him for more. The darkness they tried so hard to keep locked up inside themselves did not only drip out, it burst out like someone had opened the fucking floodgates. At the end they all drowned in it, Dean had just helped them to let it out. Blood was not only life. To Dean blood was power. It told him things people didn’t want him to know and his own blood had the power to make people go crazy. In Dean’s world blood was everything.

Dean thought he had gathered enough information from Valerie for one night. Talking to that woman was fucking exhausting, the darkness in her dripping all over the table and dribbling into Dean’s whiskey tumbler. Dean pushed his glass away in disgust. He didn’t want to drink anything that was poisoned with Valerie’s filth. Dean dwelled in darkness, devoted his life to all the dark desires he possessed. But where Dean’s darkness was pure, beautiful pitch black, Valerie’s was disgusting shades of muddy brown. It was oozing from under her nails like pus from an infected wound, leaving marks on the table that seemed to laugh at Dean and made his Mark itch like crazy. This version of darkness was tainted and Dean wanted nothing to do with it.

Dean hadn’t met anyone whose darkness matched his own. He cut people, bled them out, tried to see what was inside, scattered their guts all over the floor and still nothing. Diluted colors, grey and dirty brown, but not black. Not the same shade of undiluted pitch black that Dean’s insides were bleeding. It was like a piece of coal, it made everything around him dirty, left smudges all over the pretty white surfaces but never did Dean hear anyone else’s darkness hum back at him with the same tone his own hummed. He needed it, craved for it. To find someone whose broken pieces were as jet-black as his own. Because in the very depths of Hell what do demons do if not love one another? Dean needed a monster as black as he was. Someone who would take the pieces of coal Dean held inside and set them on fire. Together their darkness would burn so bright the whole world would see it and be able to bask in its glory. 

Dean listened to Valerie’s boring yapping for a half an hour, his eyes tracing the lines of muddy water running up and down the walls, coloring the table cloth with its distasteful tone. When Dean could feel it dribbling on his shoes, he told Valerie he had an early wake up the next morning and that he would be happy to take her home. Valerie had looked disappointed but had hid her insecure thoughts very well. Dean closed his mind so he wouldn’t have to listen to Valerie wondering if she should get bigger implants or more injections to her face.

Dean drove Valerie home and gave her a very modest kiss on the cheek, trying his best to avoid the spots that were covered with the repelling swamp water colored liquid. He was done pretending but luckily Valerie just thought that he was being a gentleman and finally she exited the car after Dean had promised to see her in the next service. Dean thanked some unknown deity (he sure as hell wouldn’t thank God) that Valerie had forgotten to ask for his number. What a pain in the ass that would have been. Dean drove off, speeding like a maniac, trying to get as far away from Valerie and her unattractive shades of brown as possible.

That night Dean got even more drunk than usual. He drove to the bad side of the town and chose the shittiest looking strip club possible. He chose the most fucked up stripper in the whole joint and spend a good part of his night trying to drown himself in a bottle of scotch and stuffing dollars into the waistband of the stripper’s thongs. The bitch was ugly as fuck, a set of fucked up teeth and a crooked nose from when his stepdad had fractured it when she was only nine because she had cried too much when he had raped her. Dean didn’t even look at the girl who was squirming against the pole, coked out of her mind. Dean allowed the girl’s diluted colors of grey keep him company. But even those weren’t able to pull him out of his misery and the muddy waters Valerie had drowned him in. 

The girl was daddy issues on two legs. Molested by her stepdad since she was only four, got hooked on every possible substance since very young age and started selling herself to get dope. Got raped numerous times, got a tooth pulled out because she owned money to some crazy-ass dealer, was left for dead outside a shitty motel but somehow survived. Dean couldn’t listen to it anymore, he had to end it. Make the grays and the browns and all the other grisly colors go away the only way he knew how. The only way the Blade and the Mark allowed him to.

So Dean got up and waved a hundred-dollar bill in front of the girl, much more than she was worth any given day. Dean knew the girl would’ve fucked him raw for thirty bucks. Dean motioned her to follow him to the back alley. There Dean pressed the girl against the alley wall. He grazed her neck with his teeth and grimaced. She tasted absolutely disgusting. Dean’s mouth was filled with all the hideous, most pathetic shades of gray and his heart was hammering in his chest like thunder. The sound of it should’ve warned the girl of the upcoming storm but she was absolutely clueless and just leaned against the cool brick wall with her eyes closed.

Dean felt everything at once. Disappointment. Anger. The Mark burning like hellfire on his arm. He grabbed the girl’s throat and dug his fingers viciously into the soft flesh. He squeezed harder and harder, made all the grey bleed out, watched it burst out of the girl’s neck like filthy water from a fountain. The hundreds of shades of grey mixed up with one another, forming a grotesque whirl that danced at Dean’s feet and tried to climb up his legs. The only good thing about a grim shadow of a human like the girl dying was that just before death took them, their ugly diluted shades grew darker and darker, almost matching Dean’s jet-black but never quite. For Dean there was something comforting about it. In death everyone came closer to Dean’s darkness. But then Dean dug his fingers too deep and all the lingering darkness died out, disappeared into the night. The girl was lying lifeless in his arms.

Dean screamed. He screamed so loud that he could feel hellhounds shifting in their lairs underneath him. He could feel angels shaking their feathers above him. He could feel the darkness screaming with him, a feral sound that echoed in the deserted alley. With one violent movement Dean ripped out the girl’s esophagus. Finally, his scream died out. For some time, he just stood there, the girl’s crushed gullet in his hand, staring into nothingness. And nothingness stared back at him. Dean felt empty. He dropped the gullet he was still holding in his fist and disappeared into the night.


	3. The God That Heroin Prays To

“He moved with shameless wonder  
The perfect creature rarely seen  
Since some liar brought the thunder  
When the land was godless and free

His eyes look sharp and steady  
Into the empty parts of me  
But still my heart is heavy  
With the hate of some other man's beliefs

Always a well-dressed fraud  
Who wouldn't spare the rod  
Never for me

Screaming the name of a foreigner's God  
The purest expression of grief.”  
(Hozier- Foreigner’s God)

For the next couple of days Dean drifted aimlessly. He had memorized the services that were led by Father Winchester but he didn’t want to go there. First of all, he didn’t want to expose himself to Valerie’s filth and he knew that would be inevitable if he went to the service and secondly he couldn’t bear to sit another hour in the same room with Father and not talk to him or touch him. There was also something else he had been anxiously waiting for.

Since Valerie had mentioned the charity work Father Winchester did, Dean had looked into it and found out that Father did in fact run some sort of Narcotics Anonymous type of group with a godly twist. Dean had always hated shit like that, even as a human he had always been hedonistic and enjoyed all the sins of the flesh to the fullest. He had had his run with different types of narcotics but had found alcohol, sex and violence to be the most fulfilling ones for him. Carnal sins still worked as one of Dean’s favorite past-times.  


But with the NA meeting Dean saw a new type of opportunity to interact with Father Winchester. All he would have to do was act like a remorseful, struggling addict and he would be in Father’s good graces in no time. Just the possibility of some alone time with Father made Dean smile devilishly. 

So on a Thursday night Dean parked the Impala to the half-empty parking lot of the local community center. He exited the car and locked the doors. Dean lit a cigarette and contemplated on his own actions. He knew himself well enough to tell that he had an obsessive personality. When he found something he wanted, he would go through hell and high water to get it and destroyed everyone and everything that stood in his way. Still he couldn’t recall the last time he had been this obsessed about a certain person. Dean’s interest in people was usually a very short-lived thing; he fell for them fast and hard and took them all to himself and obsessed over them so much the feeling burnt out. Then he moved on to the next one.

Dean threw away the rest of his cigarette and eyed the building suspiciously. He would have taken on hell and all its creatures any day rather than stepped a foot inside that hideous looking building but be braced himself and walked through the front door. When inside, he searched for the room 211 which he found on the second floor. The door was open and Dean peeked in. He grimaced at the sight. The room’s air was thick with misery. It curled up against the ceiling, waiting for its next victim, someone to wrap inside its suffocating fog. Dean decided to avoid breathing during the time he was forced to stay in the room. The fumes coming from the people were more toxic than any cigarette Dean had ever smoked.

Dean walked in and took a paper cup from the table which he filled with the murky looking coffee from the thermos pump pot. He didn’t touch the cookies because the plate they were on was filled with muddy fingerprints. Dean already hated each and every one of the pathetic excuses for human beings that were seated in the room. Dean sat in the empty back row, as far away from the people as possible. He dug out a flask from the pocket of his leather jacket and poured some vodka to the cup to accompany his tar-like coffee. 

There was still time before the meeting officially started so Dean sipped on his coffee-vodka mix and eyed the room warily. The walls were littered with different kinds of posters that were probably supposed to be motivational but on Dean’s opinion they were downright depressing. He suspected the suicide rates of these meetings to be quite high. Maybe that was the plan. To make the meetings and the environment so fucking miserable that the ones who didn’t overdose, slit their own wrists just so they didn’t have to suffer in this purgatory on weekly basis. Well that was one way to get rid of the junkies, Dean guessed.

Dean eyed the other people that were seated mainly in the front. There were about ten people in total. A woman in her early twenties caught Dean’s attention. She was couching quite loudly into her napkin and her skin was so lifeless it had turned gray. Dean studied the woman’s body. There was something off about the pitiful mess of shady blues that roamed around the woman’s chest. It wasn’t your usual darkness, not even the really faded one. This was something else entirely. That was death, a reaper’s touch looming over the woman. She wouldn’t have long to live. If Dean focused hard enough, he could almost see the reaper wrapping its deathly strings around the woman, trying to get his filthy hands on the pathetic mess that was couching her lungs out into the napkin. 

Dean saw drops of blood on the white handkerchief before the woman tugged it back into her sleeve. A thought occurred to Dean: ‘She doesn’t know she’s gonna die. She thinks it’s just a really bad case of pneumonia.’ Dean took a long sip of his drink. The whole room was so fucking depressing he started to wish that he was the one dying instead of the woman. And the actual meeting hadn’t even started yet.

Suddenly Dean felt a familiar stinging feeling at the back of his neck which made him turn around so fast he spilled some of his drink on his shirt. But he couldn’t care less, because now he was face to face with God’s grace himself. Father Winchester had just entered the room and was talking to some man by the door. Dean could actually feel his mouth water and the soft hum coming from Father Winchester’s mind vibrated against his body and made his cock throb between his thighs. Dean gently massaged his balls, making sure no one would see his actions. Fortunately for Dean every person in the room was too wrapped up in their own misery to give a rat’s ass about Dean and his wandering hands. 

Dean could feel his cock fill up and harden inside his jeans and he wanted nothing more than to force the good Father on his knees in front of himself and serve his cock to the man of God. He wanted to feel the vibrations coming from Father against his exposed hard on as the man choked on Dean’s cock.

Dean’s fantasies were short-lived when he heard someone clear their throat. Father Winchester was standing behind the podium in the front of the room. Dean sat up and stared shamelessly at the man, letting his thoughts wander into dark places. At the same time, he used his other hand to rub against his still erect cock. 

“I would like to welcome everyone to the Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Without further ado we can start with our first speaker of the night who is celebrating his first year of sobriety this weekend. Stan, the stage is yours”, Father Winchester said and stepped away from the podium to sit on the chair next to it. The man named Stan walked behind the podium and started the most tedious speech Dean had ever heard. Not that he heard much of it though since all his attention was on Father Winchester. The way the man sat, the way he smiled kindly at Stan’s heartfelt words and used his long, slender fingers to pull a loose strand of hair back behind his ear every once in a while. Dean spend most of his time imagining what those fingers would feel like rubbing against his prostate.

There was a speech after a speech and Dean’s vodka-coffee mix had ran out of coffee and turned into vodka. Who knew ex-addicts would be so boring? When Dean ran out of vodka somewhere around the fifth speaker he started contemplating on murderous acts. He wanted to rip open the throats of every single, miserable son of a bitch in the room and fuck Father Winchester long and hard on top of the pile of mangled corpses. In his mind Dean was just about to shoot his load inside the dear Father when he heard commotion around himself and opened his eyes just in time to realize that the meeting had finally ended.

Dean got up and waited for Father Winchester to pass him on his way out. Unfortunately, Father decided to chat some more with his herd of insufferably boring junkies. Finally, most of the people had left the room and the few ones that were left were talking to each other instead of Father Winchester. Dean walked towards Father who had finally noticed Dean and was now smiling at him like he had never been happier about seeing someone. Then Dean was face to face with the man himself.

“Dean, what a surprise seeing you here! I would say I’m pleased to see you but given the circumstances I think that wouldn’t be a nice thing to say. How are you? I haven’t seen you at the services during the past week. Or maybe you have been there the nights Father O’Malley has been present instead of me?” Father Winchester asked and offered his hand for Dean to shake. Dean took it and clung on to it like it was a lifeline. 

“Yes, Father, you’re right, I haven’t been to the services during the past week. I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been battling with my inner demons quite a lot lately. When I heard that the community center had these types of meetings I just had to come here. I’ve been feeling rather down lately”, Dean said, lowering his gaze as if he was ashamed of his own weakness but it was all just an elaborate act. During his lifetime Dean had noticed that the easiest way to get under the skin of someone who was empathetic was to seem as pathetic as possible. All those do-gooders just couldn’t resist those kind of pitiful creatures.

And just as expected, Father Winchester’s expression turned instantly into an understanding one and he laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone with your demons, Dean. There is always a place here for you where people have been through the same types of things and no one judges you. And that’s what I’m here for. Here, take this. It has my work and private number on it. If you ever feel like you just can’t handle things alone, just pick up the phone and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to try and help”, Father Winchester said and offered Dean a business card which Dean took, faking a grateful smile.

“Well that is mighty nice of you, Father. You truly are a man of God”, Dean said, his voice husky, which he tried to disguise as emotion. It was getting harder for him to hide his true self the longer he was around Father. “Please, just call me Sam”, Father Winchester said with a wholehearted smile. ‘Sam’, Dean’s mind sang to him like an angel choir. Well maybe not angel but something of the sorts.

“Well, Sam. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee before I head home?” Dean asked, almost holding his breath. So close. So close he could almost feel his fingers curling around Sam’s neck. Sam, sweet, naïve Sam, just smiled at Dean, totally unaware of the dark thoughts the demon before him was thinking. “I would like that very much, Dean”, Sam answered. Dean smiled at him like a wolf smiles to a rabbit. “Just a minute”, Dean said.

He walked to the other side of the room and filled two paper cups with coffee. Then he quickly grazed the tip of his index finger with his teeth and squeezed out couple of drops of blood into the other cup. A quick lick of his finger and it looked like it had never even bled. Dean took the cups and walked back to Sam, making sure to give him the cup with his blood in it. Then it was the most exciting waiting game for Dean to observe. Sam smiled and thanked him when he took the cup.

“Thank you, Dean. I don’t think you told me why you are in town for? Did you move here or are you just passing through?” Sam asked and took a sip of his coffee. Dean gave Sam the same explanation about a construction job he had given Valerie. All the while he observed Sam. Then it happened. As sudden and unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Sam’s hands started shaking so badly he dropped the half-empty cup of coffee and he had to take a step back to stop himself from tumbling over. Dean was just about to put his cup down and help steady the man when it happened. It felt like someone had finally opened a door that had been jammed shut for ages. Sam’s mind and soul opened up to Dean and what came out made Dean gasp for air. A perfect tune, a vibration that rocked Dean’s body like no other and made him instantly hard. It slithered into his blood stream and coursed through his veins and Dean had to close his eyes for a moment because he felt them go black from the overwhelming pleasure. 

It was black. As black as the darkest depths of hell. It washed over Dean in waves and drowned him into its darkness. Pitch black, unfiltered vibration that danced on Dean’s every nerve ending, slithered over his tongue and made him feel like he had opened the pearly gates of heaven. It was violent and raw and it cling on to Dean’s own darkness, making his vision go blurry.

Then it was over as quickly as it had begun, leaving Dean feel empty and craving for more. When Dean was sure his eyes weren’t black anymore, he dared to glance at Sam who had sat down on the nearest chair, his cup of coffee spilled on the floor. Sam looked still a bit out of it and when his gaze met Dean’s, his pupils were blown so wide there was only a thin hazel rim around them.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Even though the strongest waves had stopped already, there was still a much stronger humming between them than there had been before. Sam rubbed his temples and blinked his eyes before looking at Dean. There was something wild and reckless about his expression. Something so beautiful it rendered Dean speechless. It was like an untamed beast that someone had finally set free, a primitive force of nature not to be messed with. Dean had never seen something so mesmerizing.

“Yeah, I think so. I just felt a bit lightheaded for a while. I haven’t eaten very well today so I think my blood sugar might be a bit low. I should probably get home and rest”, Sam said and got up. Dean was instantly by his side, helping the man up. This time Dean’s touch seemed to have an effect on Sam who winced and gasped when Dean touched his exposed skin. Dean felt it too. An eerie feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“You’re in no condition to drive. Let me drive you home”, Dean offered when the man was standing on his own, looking still quite bewildered. Sam just nodded and allowed Dean to escort himself out of the building.

The scenario that followed pleased Dean very much. Sam, still wearing his priest gown, sitting next to Dean on the front seat of Baby. Dean’s Mark tingled on his arm, sending pleasant jolts of electricity all over his body. The Mark liked Sam. It felt content in the man’s presence. Sam gave Dean instructions to his house and they drove in silence. But it wasn’t an awkward silence. Quite the opposite. It felt like they had done this a hundred times and a hundred times more. Maybe in another lifetime, in another reality, universe’s length away they had. ‘Possibilities of an impossible existence’, Dean thought to himself.

Dean pulled the Impala to a halt in front of a small but cozy looking house with a white picket fence. Then he turned to Sam who looked still a bit loopy. “You sure I can’t do anything more? Maybe help you get inside, make sure you’re okay?” Dean asked with a faked concern. He knew Sam would be okay the next morning as soon as the last effects of Dean’s blood had vanished from his bloodstream. 

Sam smiled at Dean, a kind but a bit tired smile. “I’m sure, Dean. Thank you for the ride. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the services again and remember if you ever feel in the need for someone to talk to, you have my number, just pick up the phone. Goodnight, Dean”, Sam said and with a nod and a smile he was out of the car. Dean stared at Sam until the man opened the front door of the house and slid in. 

“Goodnight, Sam”, Dean whispered to himself.

**********

The next morning Dean was up before the dawn. He had barely slept, mainly just tossed and turned. His thoughts of a certain hazel-eyed man had kept him up all night. Dean hadn’t even gone out, the first time since he came to town. Instead he had put on AC/DC’s Back in Black and touched himself for hours, thinking about Sam and the wave of unfiltered, jet-black darkness coming from the gorgeous man. Dean had never felt anything like it. A darkness black enough to match his own, so pure and unfiltered he had felt like crying when it had washed over him. It hadn’t just dribbled on the floor of oozed from Sam’s pores, no, it was a huge, dark wave that had wrapped itself around Dean, trying to drown him in its sweet embrace. An ocean of the purest, most exquisite shade of black just for Dean to swim in.

Dean was feeling less anxious. Then again he had shot his load about seven times during the past few hours. Still he was semi-hard again. He could still feel Sam’s presence, lingering somewhere at the edges of his consciousness, reminding Dean that there was actually a darkness as pure and raw as his own was. And Dean needed to feel it again, the sooner the better. 

So around half past eight in the morning Dean slid into the Impala and drove the car to the house he had been at the night before. He parked the car far enough that it couldn’t be seen from the house and lit a cigarette. Then he waited. And like clockwork, exactly 9 am he saw the front door open and Sam exited the house. Dean sat up straighter. Sam seemed to radiate, some weird mixture of pureness and the raw, animalistic darkness Dean knew was hiding inside the man. Dean pondered if Sam was actually aware of his own darkness or if it was completely locked up somewhere inside the man.

Sam walked to the nearby bus stop that was almost directly in front of his house. After a moment a bus drove around the corner and Sam got in. Dean waited few minutes before he got out of the car and locked the doors. The next moment he was standing in the living room of Sam’s house. Dean grinned to himself. He would never get bored of the fine art of teleportation. Dean eyed the room. It was a quite basic living room, decorated with warm green and vanilla colors. Dean stared at the small table on the opposite side of the room and grimaced. The table was littered with angel statues. All shapes and sizes of heaven’s most annoying assholes filled the table. Dean fought the urge to knock them down one by one and watch them shatter on the hard, wooden floor.

With disgust Dean turned his attention elsewhere. He walked around the corner and found a small kitchen. He walked to the fridge and opened the door. There were two opened cartons, one of orange juice and one of milk. Dean opened the caps and bit on his index finger, drawing blood. Then he dropped three drops of blood into each container and smiled viciously. That would help him keep Sam on the edge, nice daily doses of demon blood.

Dean closed the cartons and the fridge door and continued his tour of the house. He found stairs that led to the second floor and since Dean hadn’t found a bedroom yet, he assumed he would find it upstairs. He was right, there was a small, cozy bedroom with a king size bed and a table with a laptop on it. Dean grinned devilishly. “Well, well, well, what do we have in here”, he chuckled to himself and sat down on the office chair. He opened the laptop and pressed the power button on the side. The laptop opened and Dean clicked on the icon that said ‘Sam’. And as he had expected, there was no password. Religious people, so naïve and gullible. No idea how to protect their privacy.

Dean clicked on the Google Chrome icon at the bottom of the screen. ‘Time to see what filthy things the good Father likes to look at on his free time’, Dean thought to himself. He opened the browsing history and started scrolling. It was mainly just boring stuff; Google searches about church business, email, news, dentist and some football scores. Suddenly Dean stopped scrolling and leaned closer to the screen. There, around two weeks ago. A Google search. Dean laughed out loud. This was just too delicious.

Dean scrolled further and his chest filled with joy. “Oh Father how you have sinned”, Dean chuckled as he went through the search history. The searches were ambrosia to Dean’s black soul; prayers to get rid of homosexuality, how bad of a sin is homosexuality, how bad of a sin is masturbation, do all gays go to hell. The list was endless. But then Dean hit the motherload. He clicked on the page Sam had been to, even though he recognized the name already.

A video opened up on the screen and Dean skipped to its delicious parts. And there it was; what Sam had been watching before he had felt the need to ‘pray the gay away’. Moans of the two men filled the room and Dean’s mouth watered at the sight of a tanned blond with short-cropped hair fucking a long-haired man hard and raw. A slow, self-satisfied smile formed on Dean’s lips. He didn’t need to be a genius to figure out the resemblance. The short-haired man could have been his doppelganger. Dean checked the date of the research and his smile widened. It was from the same night Dean had first shook hands with Sam at the door of the church. It seemed like he had made a more lasting impression on the man of God than he had thought.

Dean scrolled through the searches Sam had used on the same site and felt immensely pleased; big cock, barebacking, choking, bondage and spanking. Who would have known the man of God to be such a kinky little fuck. Not that Dean had any complaints, quite the opposite.

Dean cleaned the browser history and closed the laptop. That was enough research for one day, he would have to study the man in question in different ways later on. More intimate ways. Dean was just about to leave the room when something caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed it before because he had been so focused on the laptop and its contents but now it seemed to take over all of his senses. A smell. A certain smell Dean was very familiar with. 

He looked around and located a laundry bin in the far end corner of the room. He walked over to the bin and opened the lid. The smell got stronger. Dean picked up a pair of dark blue boxer briefs that were haphazardly thrown on top of the pile. He lifted them up closer to his face and felt dizzy from the strong emotions coursing through his body. The insides of the boxers were filled with cum that hadn’t even dried yet. Dean stared at it, hypnotized by its pearly whiteness.

He had a good hunch about what had happened. Demon blood heightened all the bodily functions; hunger, energy, strength. And most importantly, sex drive. Judging from Sam’s Google searches, he thought that masturbation was a sin and probably tried his best never to touch himself. That combined with the effects of the demon blood would most definitely result in wet dreams.

Dean stared at the still wet patch of cum on the boxers. There was so much of it Dean knew Sam hadn’t had a release in a long, long time. Dean couldn’t resist the urge to lift the boxers to his face and stick out his tongue to taste it. It felt like an explosion in his head and cock and he was instantly hard. Before Dean knew what had happened, he was lapping the cum into his mouth, savoring its dark taste that made his own cock spurt out massive amounts of precum. Dean licked and sucked on the cum-filled boxers and used his other hand to rub his cock through his jeans.

Then the boxers were clean but Dean still wasn’t satisfied so he opened his jeans and slid out of them. He rarely used underwear so he was going commando as usual. He laid on the bed on all fours, pressing his face into the pillow that smelled like Sam, taking his own leaking cock into his hand, rubbing it up and down, spreading the precum all over his massive length. Even though Dean had done practically nothing else but jerked off the night before, he came in seconds, the taste of Sam’s cum still strong in his mouth. Dean shot his load all over the bed covers with reckless abandon, all the way up to the pillow he had buried his face in.

Then Dean just laid there, knowing this would never be enough. He had tasted Sam and Sam had tasted him. Dean needed, wanted, craved to feel the man, naked underneath himself, squirming and panting, leaking from his pretty cock, begging Dean to fuck him. Dean no longer wanted to kill the man. He needed Sam, wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He would make Sam his, no matter what it would take. 

Dean got up from the bed and eyed the covers. He took a dirty sock from the laundry bin and wiped off most of the cum. It made him feel satisfied that the upcoming night Sam would be sleeping on a pillow with Dean’s cum on it. Dean threw the sock back into the bin and zipped up his jeans. Then he stuffed the pair of Sam’s underwear into his pocket and the next moment he was back in the Impala, lighting up another cigarette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be quite long but oh well. The title is from Hozier's 'To Be Alone'. As a spoiler I can you tell that from here on out the focus will shift to Sam and Dean's relationship and Dean will learn more about Sam's dirty little secrets in the upcoming chapter :) sorry for the mistakes again, I tried my best to correct them and I hope I got rid of the major ones... hope you enjoyed it anyways :) comments are always appreciated!


	4. Demon On A Leash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I wanna apologize that this took me about a forever to write. I have a shitload of school work at the moment and I struggled with the chapter and I'm also writing 3 other wincest fics and some destiel and wolfstar at the same time. I'm not sure it turned out excatly the way I wanted but I'm excited to write the next chapter and hope it will be better if this one sucks :D and those who were worried whether I will continue with this work or not, don't worry, I have every intention of finishing this fic :) it might just take a while but I'll get there. Thank god the christmas holidays are approaching, bachelor's thesis are doing my head in. Also wanna apologize for all the spelling mistakes etc in the text, I read it through quite hastily so there's probably a lot of mistakes. hope you enjoy it nevertheless :)

“When I was a child, I heard voices...  
Some would sing and some would scream  
You soon find you have few choices...  
I learned the voices died with me

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours  
Staring into open flame  
Something in it had a power,  
Could barely tear my eyes away

All you have is your fire...  
And the place you need to reach -  
Don't you ever tame your demons  
But always keep 'em on a leash.”  
(Hozier- Arsonist’s Lullaby)

The next evening Dean went to the church just as the service had ended. He waited on the other side of the road and watched as people started to pour out the doors. Dean grimaced as he recognized Valerie’s honey blond hair in the crowd of people but he quickly forgot about that when he saw Sam. He absorbed every inch of Sam who was standing at the top of the stairs as usual, all cheery smile and wind-blown hair. When Dean saw Sam go back inside, he was sure the church had emptied and walked across the street. When Dean laid his hand on the door handle he thought to himself: ‘Oh dear Lord up in Heaven, if you exist you ought to strike me down now for I’m about to corrupt your most precious child.’ When the thunder and lightning never came, Dean just grinned as he opened the door and walked in.

He stood in the shadows for a while, watching Sam, like a hawk watches its prey before it attacks. But this time Dean didn’t want to maul and slaughter. He wanted to own and cherish. He knew Sam would become his, one way or another. All his.

Dean watched as Sam gathered the hymn books people had left behind and put them in their places. Dean emerged from the shadows and walked to the altar. He didn’t say a word, just waited for Sam to notice him. Sam was putting the last books into the cabinet in the back and when he turned around and saw Dean, he flinched and Dean felt a pleasant sting inside himself. He liked keeping Sam on the edge. From the enforced humming Dean knew Sam had been drinking from the containers Dean had put his blood into. Sam’s darkness wasn’t visible at the moment but Dean felt it hum right beneath the surface. Just a little bit more blood and he could drown in it once more.

“Dean! Hey! You startled me”, Sam said and let out a nervous laughter. Dean noticed his pupils dilated slightly when he looked at Dean. “I’m sorry, Sam. Didn’t mean to scare you”, Dean said with his best fake apology voice. For a moment Sam just stared at Dean, his pupils dilated and his Adam’s apple bobbing. Dean was mesmerized by the movement of Sam’s throat. He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do more; sink his teeth into the yielding flesh or shove his cock down Sam’s throat, all the way down to that delicious looking lump on Sam’s neck.

“Did you need something? I didn’t see you at the service”, Sam said, fidgeting with his hands. Dean let out a well-practiced, trembling sigh. “I didn’t feel strong enough to sit with people, I was afraid I might collapse. Or worse. But I needed someone to talk to. I know this is very rude of me to ask put would it be possible if we went somewhere to talk for a bit?”, Dean asked, covering his face with his hand in a manner he hoped looked like a desperate man on the verge of a total meltdown.

Sam furrowed his brow worriedly, just as Dean had expected. Sam was the type of person who just couldn’t turn his back to someone suffering. Which of course made an immensely interesting contrast with the darkness bubbling just beneath the surface. Dean could almost see it dribble from the sleeves of Sam’s priest gown. He licked his lips in anticipation.

“Yes of course, Dean, that is why I’m here for. Like I told you before, you can always rely on me and I will do my best to help you all the ways I can”, Sam answered, his voice laced with genuine concern. Dean’s lower lip trembled like he was holding back tears. A signature move he had perfected ages ago. “Would you like to come to my place to talk? I’m just finishing off here and Father O’Malley will continue with the other evening duties. I’ll make us some coffee and we can talk about whatever it is that’s on your mind. Deal?” Sam asked with a genuine, heartfelt expression on his face. This time Dean’s smile was genuine as well.

“That would be mighty nice of you, Father”, Dean answered. “I’ll just grab some papers and my car keys with me and we’re good to go, okay? You can wait for me on the parking lot if you want, I’ll be coming through the back door” Sam said cheerily and with a nod from Dean he disappeared through the door that said ‘staff only’. Dean walked to the main doors and into the chilly night, thinking how much he wanted to go through the backdoor as well with Sam, grinning at his own witty pun.

Dean lit up a cigarette and sat down in the stone fence. He had left his car to a parking lot on the other side of the road because he didn’t want Valerie or anyone else to recognize it. Dean smoked his cigarette, blowing out smoke rings that disappeared into the night. He stared at the starry night sky, black like tar and oddly comforting. Sometimes when he was on the road he would drive to a deserted country road or a field and lay down on the hood of the Impala, drinking beer and admiring the stars.

They felt like they were in another universe, so far away yet so close Dean felt like if he just reached out hard enough, he could touch them with the tips of his fingers. Pick them up one by one until there was nothing left to light up the night and everyone would have to live in the same darkness where Dean had lived his whole life. That had always felt like an oddly comforting thought to him. To let the darkness inside him roam free, scorch the earth until there was nothing left but despair and all of Hell’s abominations roaming with him. And Dean would lead them and together they would rule not only the earth, but heaven, hell and every inch in between. Dean had always known that the darkness inside him was a feral being that once set free, could no longer be contained.

Dean snapped out of his gloomy thoughts when a warm hand touched his shoulder and a voice whispered from too close: “Ready to go, Dean?” Dean turned to Sam. So close and so beautiful and so alive, eyes shining amber and hazel in the dim light of the parking lot, still dressed in the priest gown, his shoulder-length hair as gorgeous as always. Dean dropped the cigarette and stomped it with the heel of his boot. He cleared his throat but still his voice came out too rough and lustful. An honest combination of how he was feeling on the inside every time he was with Sam. “Yes, sure. Can we take your car? I came here by bus”, Dean said, the lie slithering out of his mouth with practiced ease.

Sam just smiled. “Of course. Follow me”, Sam replied and led Dean to the car Dean had seen parked on Sam’s driveway the day before. Sam opened the doors and Dean slid into the passenger’s seat. Sam started the car and drove off. Dean spent the whole drive trying his best not to stare too openly at Sam; the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed or how his long, lean fingers curved against the leather of the wheel, occasionally wiping a loose strand of hair back behind his ear.

Sam parked the car on the driveway of his house and they both exited the car. Sam smiled at Dean and Dean followed him inside like a fox follows a rabbit into its hole. Sam unlocked his front door and held it open for Dean like a true gentleman. Dean walked in to the unfamiliar hall; he had not entered nor exited through the door when he had visited Sam’s house on his own so he had very little knowledge of the place.

“I can take your jacket. Would you like some coffee or juice maybe?” Sam offered and took Dean’s jacket. Dean felt a shiver of disgust run through his body at the thought of drinking his own blood. “Coffee is fine. Black, if you would be so kind”, Dean said and smiled at Sam. Poor, clueless Sam. Dean almost felt sorry for the man. Except he knew what was laying under that sweet, naïve exterior of his. An eon of unfiltered darkness, black as tar and sweet as ambrosia.

“I’ll go make us some coffee but make yourself comfortable. The living room is to the left, I’ll be right with you”, Sam said and with one last smile he disappeared into the kitchen. Dean walked to the familiar living room. He controlled the anger flaring up inside himself at the sight of the angels. When Sam was his, he would take those angels and smash them to pieces one by one. And he would take immense joy on doing so.

Dean sat down and took in the rest of the room. He still hadn’t quite figured out how it was possible for a man like Sam to have something so dark brewing inside himself. Sam seemed like a basic, sweet and caring small town priest. Except for the staggering good looks of course. Dean sat down on the couch, making sure his back was turned to the angels. He hoped they would enjoy the show he had in store for them though. Dean tapped on his thigh with his fingers. He was anxious. He needed action. The mark on his arm which he rarely even paid attention to since becoming a demon itched for the first time in years.

Sam entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee. Dean sat up straight and felt a familiar spark inside himself. Hunger. Dean took the cup Sam offered him with a smile and a thank you. Sam laid his own cup on the table and was just about to sit down when he snapped his fingers. “I need some milk for mine. Just a sec!” Sam said and hurried off to the kitchen. Dean wasted no time. He bit on his wrist and drained his blood into Sam’s coffee cup. Dean was just licking the wound on his wrist when Sam walked back into the room with the milk. Dean pulled his sleeve down, covering his wrist. The wound would heal completely within minutes.

Sam sat down and poured a little bit of milk into his cup of coffee and took a sip. Dean picked up his own cup and took a sip as well, watching Sam over the rim of the cup. The effect wasn’t as immediate as last time but Dean knew it wouldn’t take many more sips for Sam to start feel the effect. Sam put his cup down and smiled at Dean. “So Dean, what is it that you want to talk about? What’s troubling you?” Sam asked and his brow furrowed with genuine concern. Dean couldn’t wait for the blood to finally take effect. He wanted to see the dark side of Sam, not this caring pretense that was painted on the surface like beige paint over a colorful graffiti.

Dean stared at his lap hopelessly. “Well, Father, Sam, like I told you before, I’ve been struggling a lot lately. Mainly with substance abuse, that’s why I came to the NA meeting but also with… desires”, Dean whispered. He saw Sam’s furrow deepening. “What kind of desires?” Sam asked and took a small sip from his coffee. Dean felt a pulse. Sam’s darkness was coming alive again. Dean sighed deeply. “Homosexual desires”, Dean replied and lifted his gaze to look Sam in the eyes.

Sam was staring at him, his pupils wider than usual but not as huge as last time. Not yet. He had been unknowingly feeding on demon blood for a day and a half and it had clearly built him some stamina against the immediate effect. But Dean could see Sam’s hands trembling like leaves. Dean was pretty sure he knew what was going through Sam’s mind at the moment. Dean’s words sparking up the desire Dean knew lived inside the preacher man and Dean’s blood coursing through his veins, reaping havoc all over, clouding up his judgement.

Sam swallowed hard and to Dean’s surprise composed himself quite well. Dean felt almost pleased. Sam’s power of will was clearly much stronger than Dean had anticipated. He was able to tone down the effects of demon blood if he wanted to. Dean wrote that down on his mental list called ‘interesting facts about Sam’.

“Well, Dean, the Devil will try and tempt us all the ways possible but the important thing is to stay strong and build a solid relationship with God. When we stay in the Lord’s light the Devil is powerless. He can only tempt us with his darkness but he cannot drag us there if we hold on to God. See, I haven’t always been religious and when I was younger I made a lot of bad decisions. I used drugs and alcohol and hanged out with the wrong crowd. I became a priest after I realized I was on the wrong path that and made a conscious decision to stay in the light. You can make that decision too, Dean, if you really want to. I won’t lie to you, it’s not an easy road but it’s most certainly a rewarding one”, Sam said and smiled at Dean. He took another sip from his coffee. Dean could feel vibrations, almost see them in the air around Sam. Something was circulating just beneath the surface, ready to break free. Sam was still fighting off the effects pretty well though.

“That sounds very familiar. My father was an abusive drunk who hated my guts and wasn’t afraid to show it. Needless to say my childhood was living hell, more or less”, Dean said, sincere for the first time. He didn’t need to fake hate when talking about his asshole of a father. He wouldn’t tell Sam what he had done to the man though. Sam didn’t need to know all the gruesome details. At least not yet. Sam nodded understandingly at Dean’s words.

“I’m sorry to hear that. No child should be afraid of their own father. That is unfortunately a very common story among people who have strayed from God at early age. I myself had a troubling childhood as well. My mother died in a fire when I was just a baby. It was too much for my father to handle and he started drinking. I was very young when the social services took me away and put me into a foster home. But there was an incident. A girl, Jessica, I had befriended at the foster home died in a fire and they thought that I had started it, that maybe I had some sort of a trauma since my mother died the same way. But I didn’t start the fire. I don’t even remember all the details really, there were some weird things I think I remember but I must be wrong because it can’t be true. It’s probably my mind playing tricks on me. But nevertheless, I ended up being bounced around in the system because no one wanted a child who was an arsonist and a murderer. In the end I got sick of the way people treated me and ran away. I lived on the streets and did all sorts of stuff to survive until God showed me the way back to the light”, Sam told Dean but Dean’s mind had gone blank the moment Sam had mentioned what had happened to his mother. Dean could hear his blood pumping from excitement.

His voice trembled when he asked: “What kind of weird things did you think you saw then?” Dean knew it might have been a weird question but he had to know. The darkness inside Sam was coming to the surface, circulating around Dean. Closer, closer, closer. So close he could almost taste it. Dean licked his lips anxiously.

“I… I don’t know. I was a mess. I probably mixed things up in my head remembering all the messed up things my father told me when I was younger. But I have this clear image in my head about the night. I was sleeping in my bed when something woke me up. I felt something wet on my face and when I opened my eyes I… I saw Jess. In the ceiling. Her stomach was cut open and before I had time to do anything, she burst into flames right before my eyes. Then I just remember the flames and someone dragging me out of bed. And for some reason I remember seeing yellow eyes in the corner, watching me, observing. Those eyes still haunt my dreams occasionally. But like I said, it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, trying to cope with the tragic fact that two important people in my life died in a fire. Classic case of PTSD like many therapists have told me afterwards. Still doesn’t make it any less painful”, Sam said and swallowed hard.

Dean could see a lone tear running down Sam’s cheek and just as he reached to wipe it off, it happened. Sam’s defenses were down so the lingering darkness burst out of him when Dean’s fingers touched his cheek. It washed over Dean, way stronger than before, rendering him totally speechless. Dean’s mouth opened up in awe and he just stared at Sam, immense joy filling him when pitch black eyes stared back at him, wild and menacing. “Sam”, Dean whispered and listened to the vibrations coming from the man. They ran over him in waves, went under his skin and tore his insides apart. Now Dean knew. He knew what Sam was and where the darkness came from.

Sam’s stared at Dean in horror, his eyes not black anymore. Dean didn’t understand at first why Sam looked so frightened but then he realized. Sam’s eyes might not have been black anymore but Dean’s sure were. He tried to make them go back to their innocent, emerald green but it was no use. Sam’s darkness was still oozing from the man, tainting Dean’s skin with its tar-like texture and it was enough to keep Dean’s demonic essence on the surface. Dean made one feeble attempt to turn his eyes back to green but when he couldn’t, he decided to embrace the feeling instead. This was what he was born to do. Burn with the brightest flame. No regrets and no apologies.

So Dean’s jet black eyes stared into Sam’s hazel ones, taking in the horror in them. Sam’s mouth was agape and he looked lost and so shocked Dean almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You… You are… the Devil”, Sam gasped, inching away from Dean but Dean grabbed his arms firmly. He had seen what Sam really was, the true essence of him. The man would not get away from Dean anymore.

“Well, not quite. I am a demon though. A Knight of Hell to be exact”, Dean said, latching on to Sam, pressing him against the couch so he couldn’t escape. “I knew it. I knew it. The first time I saw you in the church I knew something was off. There was something about you. The first time in years I was drawn to someone. I should have known you were a creature of darkness. So this is what you are trying to do? Making yourself look like everything I’ve ever dreamed of and when I give in to sin you drag my soul to hell?” Sam asked, his eyes fearful and his voice quivering. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, probably, if this was some shitty B movie and you were a busty blonde who doesn’t know how to wear a bra. But this is reality. I have no intentions of dragging your soul anywhere. But I do have something to tell you. What you told me about, what happened to the girl and the yellow-eyed man… those are not your imagination. All of those memories are real, Sam”, Dean said and felt Sam tremble in his hands. A lone tear ran down Sam’s cheek and dropped on the priest gown he was still wearing. Dean licked his lips. He was touching Sam, almost laying on top of the man, feeling Sam’s muscular biceps flexing under his hands.

Dean inched closer, lifting his other leg over Sam and sitting down on Sam’s lap. His insides were screaming with desire and there was a voice inside Dean’s head telling him to take Sam right then and there. Sam on the other hand seemed to be frozen with fear, his mouth agape and a wild look in his eyes as they explored Dean’s face. Dean removed his other hand from Sam’s arm and lifted it up to Sam’s neck, etching the line of the clerical collar which was pressed against Sam’s throat. It reminded Dean of a dog collar, like Sam was God’s pet or something. Like he was on a leash. But Dean was about to break Sam free from the chains that had been holding the beautiful man back all those years. A creature like Sam should not be caged.

Dean dug his finger under the clerical collar and ripped it off with one swift movement. Sam gasped. Then Dean slid his hand down Sam’s chest and picked up the cross the man was wearing. He lifted it up and stared at the golden necklace. The Jesus nailed to the cross was looking extra pathetic. “Let me tell you a secret, Sam. God went AWOL ages ago and no one has seen him since. Now why would he do that if humans were so precious to him? That’s the secret, Sam. God doesn’t give a fuck and all the angels are dicks. So who is there left to save you but me?” Dean whispered, his voice rough and alluring. He ripped the cross from Sam’s neck and tossed it behind his back. It felt good to tell Sam the truth and show him Dean’s true colors.

Dean lifted Sam’s chin up with the tip of his index finger. Sam was shivering like a leaf under him. “I’m not the one you should be afraid of, Sam. It’s the yellow-eyed man you should fear. I know him and believe me, he is not a nice man. Well technically he’s not a man to begin with. I know what you are Sam, I know what you’re capable of, even if you don’t know it yourself”, Dean whispered and lowered his face closer to Sam’s, their lips almost touching.

“I know you’re lying. The good Lord is testing me. I know how the Devil works, he comes as everything you’ve ever wished for and tries to tempt you to the path of sin”, Sam whispered against Dean’s lips, his body still quivering but his voice determined and strong. Dean had to hand it to Sam, the man had guts. “Fine, don’t believe me. But let me do you a favor. You sometimes read some Latin texts during the services, right?” Dean asked and eyed Sam closely. Sam’s pupils were still blown out but now there was also a rim of hazel around them. Sam nodded.

“Good. See, if I know anything about the yellow-eyed man, it is that he likes to take good care of his possessions. I bet he has people keeping an eye on you. You know the name of the Lord in Latin, Sam?” Dean asked. Sam nodded again. He wasn’t looking Dean in the eyes anymore. Dean gripped Sam’s chin between his thumb and index finger and forced Sam to look him in the eyes. “What is it, Sam? The name of your Lord and savior in Latin, say it out loud”, Dean whispered roughly. Sam stared at Dean and Dean was glad to see defiance burning bright in his eyes. “Christo”, Sam whispered. A shiver ran down Dean’s spine but nothing more. He was a Knight of Hell after all. A simple word didn’t have much effect on him.

“Good. Now if you wanna know whether I’m telling you the truth or not, all you have to do is use that word in your ceremony tomorrow night and then you can just count all the pretty black peepers staring back at you from the audience. You might be surprised how close demons are able to get to you without you even noticing”, Dean said and got up from Sam’s lap. He took a paper and a pen from the table and wrote down the address of his motel and the number of the room he was staying in. He took the paper and slipped it into Sam’s pocket, making sure to caress Sam’s thigh at the same time. “When you see that I’m telling the truth, feel free to drop by anytime”, Dean said and grinned and the next moment he was gone, leaving a bewildered Sam clutching onto the couch like it was a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It bothers me that they use the word christo to mean god even though the right word would be deus. But I wanted to stay true to the show so I used christo (which means the anointed or something of the sorts). hope you liked it and I promise the next chapter will be better :)


	5. The Dark Caress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not have turned out the way I wanted but it turned into something alright. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think :)

“Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have I done?  
I’ve fallen in love with a man on the run  
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please  
Don’t take that sinner from me  
Oh don’t take that sinner from me

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what do I do?  
I’ve fallen for someone who’s nothing like you  
He’s raised on the edge of the Devil’s backbone  
Oh I just wanna take him home  
Oh I just wanna take him home  
Ooooooooooo  
Ooooooooooo

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, he’s somewhere between  
A hangman’s knot, and three mouths to feed  
There wasn’t a wrong or a right he could choose  
He did what he had to do  
Oh he did what he had to do  
Ooooooooooo  
Ooooooooooo

Give me the burden, give me the blame  
I’ll shoulder the load, and I’ll swallow the shame  
Give me the burden, give me the blame  
How many, how many Hail Marys is it gonna take? 

Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not  
He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got  
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please  
Don’t take that sinner from me  
Oh don’t take that sinner from me.”  
(The Civil Wars- Devil’s Backbone)

The next evening Dean had just relaxed on the armchair with a tumbler of scotch when there was a knock on the door. Dean got up and walked to the door. He didn’t need to peek through the window, he knew exactly who was behind that door. And as expected, when Dean opened the door he was greeted with a pair of nervous-looking hazel eyes. “Hello, Father. How nice of you to show up. I’ve been waiting for you, come on in”, Dean greeted with a slow grin and stepped aside, allowing Sam to enter the room.  


Dean eyed the man up and down; Sam was still wearing his priest gown but it was all dirty and wrinkled, like he had been chased through the forest by wolves or something. His hair was a mess and Dean saw his whole body was shaking even though he tried to stop himself from trembling. Sam’s eyes were like wild rabbits, eyeing the room left and right and Dean saw couple of beads of sweat on the man’s forehead.

Sam walked past Dean and grabbed the tumbler Dean was loosely holding as he went and downed it in one go. Then he slumped down on the edge of the bed, his trembling hands holding onto the empty tumbler. Dean smiled to himself as he fetched the whole bottle from the kitchen counter. He walked up to Sam and took the tumbler from him. He poured scotch into the glass and put it back to Sam’s hand. Then he dragged the armchair opposite to the shaken man and sat down. Dean leaned back in the chair and took a long swig straight from the bottle.

“Drink. There’s more where that came from”, Dean encouraged. Sam stared at the amber liquid in his glass before he took a sip. “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in five years”, Sam said and Dean heard the man battling himself on the inside. Something inside Sam seemed more restless than before, it was pulsating right under the surface. It was beautiful and Dean was mesmerized by it.

Sam took another long sip from the tumbler. And then another. Soon the glass was empty and Dean filled it again, this time to the rim. He was captivated by the sheer neediness Sam drank with. It was a desperate man’s attempt to drown his demons. Unfortunately, Dean knew they couldn’t be drowned. But he could teach Sam how to swim with them.

“You were right. The moment I said ‘Christo’, five people’s eyes turned black. I managed to hold myself together long enough to finish the ceremony but I guess they grew suspicious. They followed me home. I couldn’t take my car, they were parked near the house where they probably thought I couldn’t see them. I had to escape through the window in the back and take the bus to get here. I don’t think anyone followed me but I can’t be certain”, Sam whispered, his voice steadier but his hands still shaking, making the amber liquid slosh in his glass.

“Even if they followed you, they can’t get in here. I’ve demon-proofed this shithole from top to bottom. This is just about the safest place on Earth for you right now”, Dean said. Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and took off the clerical collar. It fell softly on the stained carpet. “If it’s demon-proofed, how are you able to be inside then? And how about me? You said there was… something inside me that makes me unholy”, Sam sighed, his eyes glued to the clerical collar at his feet. “I’m a Knight of Hell. Little tricks and gimmicks hold no power over me. And you’re still just a mere human”, Dean answered, feeling almost sorry for the defeated man before him.

“If it is hard for the righteous to be saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?" Sam muttered, his eyes glued to the unruly carpet before him. Dean furrowed his brow. “Is that from the Bible? Are you honestly quoting the Bible to me?” Dean laughed. Sam gave him a nasty glare. “Yes it’s from the Bible. Peter 4:18”, Sam said and handed his glass for Dean to fill. “Well someone’s been giving you false information. It’s the sinners who have the most fun, Father”, Dean said with a leer and a knowing smile. Sam rolled his eyes at the demon. 

“Don’t call me Father. I don’t know what I’m anymore but I feel like calling me Father is a mockery of God”, Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “As you wish, Sammy”, Dean said and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against his knees. “You’re special, Sam, that’s why the yellow-eyed demon wants you. That’s why I want you”, Dean said and laid his hand on Sam’s knee. Sam looked at the hand, a small furrow appearing between his eyebrows but said nothing and didn’t flinch away. Dean marked that down as a victory in his books.

“You want me. As in you want to use me for something, just like the yellow-eyed demon, I assume. What makes you any different from him?” Sam asked gloomily and pushed Dean’s hand away. But Dean wasn’t discouraged. Quite the contrary. “You had me all wrong, Sam. I don’t want to use you for anything, I want you to come with me. Leave this place and stop pretending to be something you’re not. I’m offering you a way out, a new beginning. And I don’t mean some shitty ‘sober up and clean up your act’-type of shit. I think we can establish that you’ve already tried that and it didn’t work. This life, the church, the NA, this town… it’s not you, Sam, I can see you don’t belong here. But you can be free of everything if you come with me”, Dean persuaded. Sure he wanted Sam to leave the town with him but he wasn’t going to lie. He didn’t need to. Dean already knew Sam was drawn not only to him but to darkness. It was in his blood, his birthright. The boy who was to be king.

Sam was now staring at Dean with bright eyes. “What is it? The yellow-eyed demon you were talking about. What does he want from me?” Sam demanded. “Lucifer needs a vessel when -or if- he comes back to the earthly plane. The yellow-eyed demon, better known as Azazel aka kiss-ass of the century wants to climb up the hierarchy so he chose possible vessels for Lucifer and fed them demon blood when they were just babies. Long story short there’s gonna be some sort of showdown if Lucifer is freed and he’s gonna wear the winner as a meat suit when he goes on a rampage. Unfortunately, you’re one of the winners in this infernal lottery. So either Lucifer chooses to use you as a vessel or you die. The options aren’t great to be honest”, Dean explained. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it or give Sam some lip service. Sam was a big boy and he was able to make his own decisions.

“So basically I have no options. Either way I’m going to lose”, Sam said and took a big sip of his scotch. Dean poured him some more. “You have an option. Come with me”, Dean said and got up to get another bottle from the kitchen. He could almost feel Sam rolling his eyes behind his back. “And what? Are you really telling that they are not going after me? That asshole had five demons watching me. Five people who I trusted, devoted church-goers, some of them my close friends”, Sam said, his voice dripping hatred and disbelief. 

“Well that asshole will have hard time utilizing you if you’re a demon. Lucifer can only possess humans, you see”, Dean said and sat down opposite of Sam again. He opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid consolation into Sam’s glass. Dean had to hand it to Sam, the man had quite good tolerance for someone who hadn’t had a drink in years. Dean watched the black essence of Sam’s soul twirl at Sam’s feet. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing that depressing motel room had ever seen. Dean could have got lost in it, staring at its comforting pirouettes for all eternity. 

“So my options are either to become a demon or get possessed by one. Oh, or die, almost forgot about that thrilling possibility”, Sam snorted, clearly not amused. “Lucifer is not a demon. He’s still an angel, even though a fallen one”, Dean said. Sam stared at him with murder in his eyes and Dean was mesmerized once again. He would give everything to own such a thing of beauty. “Then what would I be? A man of God who becomes a demon? I bet there is a special place in hell for those type of people”, Sam said and downed yet another glass. “Gimme that”, he said and took the whole bottle from Dean. Dean smiled wickedly. Finally, the sasquatch of a man was getting drunk. Took him long enough.

“You’re looking at this whole thing wrong. It’s not about good or evil or angels or demons. It’s about power. Who has it and who doesn’t. And I’m offering you power, Sam”, Dean said and laid his hand on Sam’s knee again even though he knew there was a great possibility Sam might bite it off. “So let’s say I become a demon. Then what? I go to hell with you? Doesn’t exactly sound like an exciting turn of events in my life to be honest”, Sam snorted and stared at the hand on his knee but didn’t say anything. 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re taking this too biblically. There’s nothing in hell that interests me. I wanna stay here on Earth. We can go wherever we want, do whatever we want. The sky’s the limit, Sam”, Dean said and leaned further forward. Sam stared at him intently, a questioning look in his eyes. “I wanna see your eyes. Show me”, Sam whispered and to Dean’s surprise and delight he leaned forward as well, their faces so close to each other Dean could feel Sam’s breath ghost over his skin, sending shivers down his spine. Dean didn’t even have to try, his eyes turned black on their own, having Sam so close.

Sam studied Dean’s face and stared into the black abyss his eyes held. Sam tried to make himself feel disgusted, put off by the pure evil staring back at him but he couldn’t. He tried to fight it, had tried since he had met Dean but his determination was wearing thin. He was giving into his desire for Dean. He was giving into hellfire, enjoying it as it burned the last drops of godliness out of him. And Sam fell. He fell into the black pools of unfiltered, pure darkness. He gave in and it felt better than anything ever before.

Sam leaned in and his lips met Dean’s. An excited jolt of electricity ran through his body. He didn’t know if it was the liquor or the decision that kiss sealed or just the raw lust Sam felt for Dean. Nevertheless, Sam had never felt anything like that before. The moment his lips touched Dean’s, he was gone. Sam gripped Dean’s shirt collar with both hands and kissed him hard, almost falling face first on the floor from the sheer need to touch Dean.

But Dean was faster and before Sam knew what had happened, Dean had trapped Sam on the bed underneath himself, pinning Sam’s hands above his head. “Is this a yes?” Dean growled, the demonic essence inside him burning his intestines, his heart hammering against his rib cage. He had never felt less like a human and more like an animal than he did just then. “Yes. I’ll become a demon. I’ll go with you”, Sam whispered, his voice steady but husky and rough. “Good”, was the only thing Dean said before he kissed Sam again.

Sam was strong and muscular and so perfect under him. Dean took a tight grip of Sam’s chin, staring at the panting, gorgeous man underneath himself. “I can’t make you a demon just yet. We need to cover our tracks first and it’s much easier if the demons keeping an eye on you don’t know what’s going on. But I can give you a taste of what it’s like. You want a taste, Sammy? You wanna taste what it’s like to be like me?” Dean whispered against Sam’s lips. “Please”, was the only thing coming out of Sam’s mouth, his lips agape and his eyes needy. Dean bit on his own tongue, hard and licked Sam’s lips with a languid motion, drawing his tongue slowly across those soft, plush lips, painting them crimson.

And Sam had the fucking nerve to moan and suck Dean’s tongue into his mouth, coaxing out as much blood as he could, sucking on Dean’s tongue and letting out soft moans and pants and squirming under Dean, gyrating his hips so Dean could feel how hard Sam was, the man’s priest gown doing very little to contain his hard on. Dean let Sam suck on his tongue but when they both felt the flow of blood dying out, Sam surprised Dean by biting on Dean’s tongue, sinking his teeth into the yielding flesh without an ounce of hesitation. Dean was a sucker for pain, always had been and Sam sinking his teeth on Dean’s tongue and the warm blood filling both their mouths made Dean’s cock spurt out precome, a feral moan escaping from Dean’s throat.

Sam’s sucking was now much more eager and Dean could feel the effect his blood had on Sam. Dean pulled abruptly away and leaned back. Sam was a panting, lust-filled mess under him, his hair spread out on the bed and his mouth covered with Dean’s blood. But the most thrilling thing were Sam’s eyes. Black, demon eyes staring back at Dean. A Darkness to match Dean’s own. Sam licked his own lips and let out a deep, throaty moan. Dean could feel Sam’s cock jump under his clothes. Sam’s pink, soft tongue licked on his own lips until there was no more blood left.

“You like that?” Dean asked, his voice deeper, darker. Sam bit on his lower lip and pushed his hips up, giving Dean a clear indication how much he was liking it. “Tell me what you want”, Dean ordered. “I want more blood, please, Dean”, Sam begged, almost moaned. Dean smiled; a slow grin that was more honest than any smile that had ever played on his lips. He knew Sam was hooked. Finally, Sam was his. Dean bit on his wrist, drawing blood and pressed it against Sam’s lips. Sam took it like a man who had been starved for ages. And he kind of was, Dean thought. Starved of real life, booze and sex and all the possible, thrilling carnal pleasures Dean was able to offer him.

“That’s it, Sammy. Drink deep. Can you feel it? I saw it in you the first time I laid eyes on you. You were heaven and hell, all wrapped together in the most beautiful mess I had ever seen. I knew I had to have you”, Dean whispered and used his free hand to caress Sam’s hair. Both of Sam’s hands were holding Dean’s arm, reassuring that the demon wouldn’t pull it away from him. Sam opened his pitch black eyes and stared at Dean as he made lewd sucking and slurping sounds. Dean was hypnotized once again. The most beautiful creature ever to walk on Earth, moaning and sucking on Dean’s wrist and staring at Dean with those jet-black eyes. 

Dean tried to pull his arm away. He had already lost quite a lot of blood and he was starting to feel light-headed. But Sam refused to let go of Dean’s arm and the demon blood coursing through his veins was making him strong. ‘Stronger than me’, Dean noticed and a thrill traveled down his spine. Good. He needed someone who could match his power, his roughness. “Sam you need to stop. Tomorrow. I promise”, Dean whispered and used all his power to pull his arm from Sam’s lips. Finally, Sam let go.

For a moment they just stared at each other, their universes colliding, stars crashing together and exploding, forming nebulas and new dimensions Dean didn’t even know could exist. Dean could almost feel his own blood, coursing through Sam’s veins, now part of Sam forever, binding them together like pages in a book. And somehow Dean felt like this was not the first time. He felt like they had been always bound together, in all the planes, all realities, all possible timelines ever to exist. They were made of the same dark matter, forever bound to search for the other half of their soul. Made of the same atoms, separated at the big bang, destined to end up together once again. In this reality and all the others, Sam’s name was written in Dean’s blood and it was screaming inside of him to get closer to Sam. But nothing seemed to be close enough.

Suddenly Sam flipped them so he was on top and Dean was the one pinned to the bed. “All those years spent praying and I always felt like there was something missing. Not once did I reach a divine connection. Not until you came along. When I heard your voice, all the angels I ever prayed to crashed and burned. The first time I touched you was the first time I ever felt truly alive. And the first time I tasted your blood, even if I didn’t know it back then, I felt like I was suddenly connected to something greater than myself. No matter how far you might be from heaven, I think you’re my divine connection”, Sam whispered, his voice hoarse and rough, feeling like sandpaper against Dean’s skin. “What do you think fucking me would do to you?” Dean asked and smirked. “Send me to heaven. Or hell. Truth be told I’m fine with both”, Sam whispered. “Then what are you waiting for?” Dean asked.

Sam tilted his head, staring at Dean, black eyes locked on black. Dean’s breath got stuck in his throat. There was something so predatory in the gesture, making Sam look like a wild animal. And now Dean knew what he had seen inside Sam, behind the twirling blackness, just out of his reach all those times but not anymore. Dean saw it now, loud and clear. A feral beast, a wolf disguised as a sheep. The true Sam, his inner self he had been forced to hide all those years. But now the beast had a pack and together they would go howling at the moon and paint the world black.

Sam came closer to Dean, slowly, painfully slow for Dean who was squirming under Sam’s iron tight grip. “Dean”, Sam whispered against his lips. It sounded like a prayer, like the only word the beast inside Sam knew. Sam’s mouth was suddenly on Dean’s, rough and demanding, sucking on Dean’s lower lip and forcing his tongue into Dean’s mouth. Dean gave in, letting Sam ravage his mouth, his body, his alleged soul. It was all Sam’s to take. Had been since the first time they met.

Sam’s tongue was in his mouth, wet and demanding and forceful, caressing Dean’s, forcing his mouth open and oh God, how Dean liked it. He was drowning in the black sea inside Sam. Then as suddenly as it had started, Sam’s mouth was gone and Dean was flipped over and Sam’s hands were on the belt of his jeans, opening it hastily, pulling Dean’s jeans down along with his boxers. Dean arched his back, pushing his ass up and his face into the filthy motel mattress. Sam’s hands felt huge on his hips and with his peripheral vision Dean could feel Sam’s black eyes studying him. Sam had been starved for years and he was getting ready to eat Dean up, swallow him whole and spit out the bones. And to his own surprise, Dean was totally fine with that.

Sam ran his hand over Dean’s spine, all the way up to his neck and back down again, spreading Dean’s ass apart. Dean let out a deep, throaty moan and pushed his ass more up in the air, watching Sam with his peripheral vision. He had never seen anything as hot as Sam, still wearing his priest gown and a rosary around his neck, spreading Dean open in front of himself. “Never took you as a submissive type but I must say I’m pleasantly surprised”, Sam hummed contently and smiled, a wicked, lopsided smile before he lowered his mouth to lick a long, wet stripe over Dean’s hole.

Dean moaned and gripped the sheets into his fists. Sam’s tongue was licking his hole and sucking it into his mouth, making the pink, quivering hole all puffy and swollen. Dean could feel Sam’s spit run down his balls and he screamed out loud when Sam’s mouth followed the wet trail and Sam sucked Dean’s balls into his mouth. “Fuck me, Sam, just fuck me already”, Dean moaned against the mattress. His cock was leaking precum in a steady stream and apparently Sam had also noticed that because he licked a long stripe from Dean’s balls all the way to the wet tip of his cock and sucked on the precum. “Your blood isn’t the only thing that tastes delicious”, Sam whispered against Dean’s cock, sending shivers all over Dean’s body. Sam moved back to work on his hole, sucking on the already puffy, sensitive flesh around it before plunging his tongue in. 

Dean let out a surprised moan as Sam’s tongue pushed inside him, stretching his open. Soon the tongue was followed by Sam’s fingers, two at once, stretching Dean open roughly. Dean’s eyes were half-lid but he could see and feel Sam doing something, his fingers disappearing just to come back with something else. Sam pushed two fingers inside Dean, along with something else. It took Dean a moment to realize it was Sam’s rosary. “Fuck!” Dean moaned as the thought of Sam pushing his rosary inside of Dean hit him like a freight train. 

“You should see yourself right now. I couldn’t imagine a more sinful sight even if I tried”, Sam whispered hoarsely and let go of the rosary. Dean could feel the cross-part of the rosary hitting against his balls as Sam let go of it. Then there was a soft rustling sound as clothes were removed and soon Dean felt the wet tip of Sam’s cock pushing against his rim. Dean didn’t need to look to know that Sam was not only big, he was huge. Sam added more force and the tip of his cock stretched Dean’s hole open enough to push in.

“Fuck, you’re tight”, Sam whispered and pushed himself all the way in with one rough movement. Dean screamed out loud when Sam’s cock and the beads of the rosary hit his prostate spot on. “Mmm, I’m stretching you out pretty nicely, didn’t think your small, tight hole could spread so wide. You like taking big cock, don’t you Dean? You like my huge cock fucking your tight hole open, don’t ya?” Sam asked and pulled out just to slam back in again. “Yes! Oh god yes!” Dean screamed. Sam growled and gripped Dean’s hair into his hand.

“No Dean, the only name you’re allowed to scream from now on is mine”, Sam hissed as he slammed forcefully inside Dean, the cross on the rosary slapping Dean on the balls every time Sam fucked him and the beads massaging his prostate. Dean couldn’t take it anymore, Sam was holding him by the hair and ramming his ass with force. With one last scream of Sam’s name, Dean came untouched all over the mattress. Dean’s clenching hole made Sam come right after him, filling Dean with spurt after a spurt, fucking him fast, milking his orgasm inside Dean.

Finally, Sam stopped and pulled out. Dean was still ass up and face down and when Sam pulled out, cum started dripping out of Dean’s fucked-open hole, making his balls soaking wet as it dripped on the mattress.

Sam admired Dean’s still open hole that was spurting out his own come every time Dean moved. Sam took the end of the rosary and pulled it out, gaining a loud, filthy moan from Dean as it rubbed against Dean’s over-stimulated prostate. Sam smiled to himself, feeling Dean’s blood coursing through his veins and the taste of Dean’s cum in his mouth. He could get used to this.


	6. Follow Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been on a hiatus with this story. Mostly because I had something different planned for it and I got bored with the idea and needed to come up with a better one and it took me a sodding forever etc. But nevertheless, here it is, the next chapter! I can't lie and promise that I'll update soon again because I still have problems with the plot and stuff but I can promise you the next chapter will sure as hell not take six bloody months to be finished! Thank you for your patience, I'm sorry you have to deal with my lazy-ass. Thank you for the kudos and lovely comments as well, they're the thing that keeps me going when motivation is low :) PS as usual all the plentiful mistakes are mine and mine alone and I have nobody else to blame for them since this is not beta read and English is not my native language :(

“Grinding again  
We're the legion of the south  
Another year with our name in your mouth  
I know how it feels to hate everything  
And feel like you're alone

I am here with you just close your eyes  
And listen to my voice  
Spill your thoughts inside of me  
They'll vanish in the void  
No one can feel what we feel  
This is family  
Just let them burn in the fire that we've set on the world

Close your eyes and follow the sound of my voice

We are the void  
Where the pain is obsolete  
You don't have to feel a thing  
Or think that life is not complete  
We are the void  
Just let go and free your mind  
Come with us into eternity  
And leave the rest to die

Never again will I be on this earth  
Float with me into the void and witness rebirth  
The overwhelming beauty takes the air from your lungs  
Time doesn't exist, we'll stay forever young

When you think you're lost  
Close your eyes and follow the sound of my voice

We are the void  
You don't have to live a lie  
Be yourself and nothing less  
Take my hand and we'll watch the world burn from the sky

Take my hand and we'll watch the world burn  
And be where we're supposed to be  
Take my hand and we'll watch the world burn from the sky.”  
(Whitechapel- The Void)

The next morning when Dean woke up, it took him a moment to realize where he was and why there was someone lying on the bed next to him. As memories from the night before started pouring in, Dean felt a pleasant sting inside himself. Sam. Sam was finally his. Dean turned to look at the man lying next to him and was surprised to find Sam with his eyes open, staring at Dean. Even though Sam’s eyes were now back to their original hazel, they still managed to capture Dean’s attention just as well as the jet-black ones.

Sam didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. There was something different about him. A shift in his aura. The way his eyes shined, all calm and collected, not an ounce of hesitation in them. All the pretense on holiness washed away in one night of giving into sin. Giving into what Sam was born to do. And finally, Dean was able to see Sam for what he really was, not just a bleak shadow hiding behind the holy exterior. Sam’s darkness was standing tall and proud, filling up every inch of Sam’s impressive body.

“Morning”, Sam whispered, staring at Dean intently. Dean stared back, letting Sam’s calmness wash over him and make him content. “Sleep well?” Sam whispered, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. There was a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips, knowing that he had fucked Dean into oblivion just hours before. Dean squirmed at the thought, he could still feel Sam’s hands on his hips, bruises etched on his skin, reminding him who he now belonged to. 

“Technically, I don’t sleep”, Dean answered. Sam opened his eyes lazily and to Dean’s disappointment, he got up and started dressing. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes wander over Sam’s perfectly sculpted body. Sam’s cock was hard, being it morning and all, and Dean licked his lips unconsciously. Sam followed the movement with his eyes and stopped dressing, letting the white T-shirt he was holding fall to the floor. Sam walked up to the bed, eyeing Dean with a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Needy”, Sam whispered and gripped Dean’s chin tightly, lifting Dean’s face so the demon was forced to look up. “Want more?” Sam murmured, still holding Dean tightly by the chin as Sam held his own cock with his free hand, pushing it against Dean’s lips. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut but he opened them again when Sam’s squeezed his chin so tightly that Dean’s bones hurt. “No, Dean, I want you to look at me”, Sam whispered roughly, sending a chill down Dean’s spine. Sam let his thumb caress over Dean’s lips, almost gently, until he pushed it into Dean’s mouth, forcing it into the wet, enveloping heat. Dean’s tongue licked Sam’s thumb in a desperate attempt to please him.

Sam withdrew his thumb and guided his cock to Dean’s lips, smearing some precum all over them, Dean’s tongue immediately coming out to lick it off. Dean’s mouth fumbled, trying to get more of Sam’s cock into his mouth, but Sam caressed Dean’s plump lips only with the tip of his cock. “Now, now, Dean, patience is a virtue”, Sam chuckled. “Fuck patience”, Dean whispered. Sam pushed Dean down until the demon was laying on the bed with Sam on top of him. Sam slipped his hand from Dean’s chin to his throat, choking him slightly. “Well, you better learn some patience if you wish for me to ever fuck that pretty face of yours”, Sam whispered, hovering over Dean menacingly. 

“See, now that you’re mine, I was thinking about getting you a nice little collar with my name on it so you don’t ever forget who you really belong to, Dean”, Sam whispered, his lips just inches from Dean’s. Dean drew a quivering breath, trying to fill his lungs despite of Sam’s tight grip on his esophagus. Dean knew it would bruise, just like his hips the night before, but he didn’t care. He wanted Sam to mark him, inside and out. If he were ever to kneel, it would be only for Sam.

“You wanted me to give in to the vile being in me. How are you liking it so far?” Sam asked, his eyes studying Dean’s face. “Loving it”, Dean wheezed out. Sam smiled from ear to ear but there was something sinister about it. “Good. Then you’ll wait”, Sam said and got up from the bed. Dean stared as Sam started dressing again. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, just staring at Sam. Once Sam was fully dressed, he walked up to Dean, caressing Dean’s face with his large hand. 

“I assume I’ll see you this evening at the service?” Sam said, petting Dean’s hair. Dean nodded. “Good”, Sam said with a smile, a more genuine one this time. Sam reached into his pocket and dug out the rosary he had been wearing the night before. He slipped it around Dean’s neck. “Something to remember me by”, Sam said and with that, he walked out the door without saying a word, leaving Dean with his thoughts, caressing the cum-soaked rosary.

***********

That evening Dean found himself sitting in the front row of the church instead of his usual back pew. Dean eyed lazily at the people entering the church. He needed to find the demons that were looking over Sam for Azazel. It didn’t take him long to spot them. A young, raven-haired man, about Sam’s age. A father of three who was holding the Bible in his hands like it was burning his skin. Like it probably was. And last but not least, an old couple and their adult son. Dean was able to observe them all he wanted without being noticed. Knights of Hell had a different aura than regular demons and Knights were rare. Run of the mill demons hadn’t probably even ever heard of Knights of Hell so they wouldn’t be able to recognize Dean for who he really was.

Dean’s posture straightened the second Sam stormed in and Dean’s eyes fixated instantly on the tall man whose priest gown was whirling at his feet in the gush of wind. Sam looked different, the way he carried himself. Like he had something inside of him that was finally able to fill every corner of that impressive-sized body of his. Sam walked into the pulpit and started his ceremony, his eyes drifting to Dean, making Dean squirm. Dean felt like he was crawling out of his skin under Sam’s intense gaze. Dean’s hands played on the rosary he had around his neck and he knew Sam saw it.

When it was time for the communion, Dean joined the others. As the line grew shorter, Sam’s eyes were fixed on Dean and Dean alone. When it was finally Dean’s turn to walk before Sam, he kneeled before the tall man, resting his hands submissively on his thighs and opening his mouth, pushing his tongue out and staring at Sam. Sam’s pupils were blown wide as he pushed the piece of wafer into Dean’s mouth, drawing his fingers over Dean’s tongue. “Body of Christ”, Sam whispered. “Blood of Christ”, he almost growled as he lifted the chalice to Dean’s lips and watched Dean swallow the blood-red liquid, just one drop escaping the demon’s mouth and starting to run down Dean’s chin before Dean swiftly licked it away. From the look in Sam’s eyes, Dean knew the man was fighting the urge to abandon everything and shove his undoubtedly hard cock into Dean’s willing mouth right then and there. “Thank you, Father”, Dean murmured as he got up, eyeing Sam one last time until he turned around to walk back to his seat, feeling Sam’s gaze burning holes in his back. 

The rest of the service went with Dean on the edge of his seat, fighting every urge that told him to just get up, take the Blade and slaughter everyone in the church before letting Sam bent him over the altar and fuck him into oblivion. Finally, the service ended and people started pouring out. Dean remained seated, waiting for Sam to be done shaking hands with his herd. At last, Dean heard the massive church doors closing behind himself and Sam walked to the altar. Dean didn’t move. He just stared at Sam who hopped up to sit on the long table at the altar.

“Come here”, Sam practically growled. Dean obeyed and got up, walking up to Sam so slowly he felt like he was in a dream, floating. The dusk had started to fall outside and the church was getting darker. Dean snapped his fingers and the dozens of candles by the altar lit up immediately. “Cute”, Sam murmured. Then Dean was standing in front of Sam who was smiling at the demon like a wolf to a rabbit. Sending yet another set of shivers down Dean’s spine. Dean was almost taken aback by the eerie feel of the church, candles lighting up the altar and coloring it with their flickering light, Sam’s eyes staring menacingly at Dean in the darkness, shining almost amber in the dim light.

“I wanna leave this place, leave with you. Tonight”, Sam whispered. Shadows were dancing on the walls and Dean could hear the sound of rain from outside and the thunder rumbling in the distance. Dean looked up at the altar painting, Jesus hanging on a cross, the crown of thorns adorning the head of the man who looked a lot like the flesh and blood man sitting in front of Dean. Thunder rumbled closer and a sudden lightning lit up the altar, shining its light through the stained-glass windows. For a moment Dean was sure he saw a crown of thorns adorning Sam’s head as well. 

“As you wish”, Dean replied, caressing Sam’s thighs with needy strokes. Sam’s eyes were half-lid and Dean swore to every entity he knew that he had never seen anything as breath-taking as Sam, sitting on the long altar table, his eyes shining in the candlelight, his long hair falling over the clerical collar. Another lightning lit up the altar again and the sound of thunder was so loud that Dean was sure it was God himself, protesting what Dean was about to do. 

Dean took the chalice Sam had used to serve wine and brought his wrist to his lips, never breaking eye-contact with Sam. He bit down on his wrist and when he felt his own, warm blood burst into his mouth, he withdrew his lips and placed his bleeding wrist over the chalice. Sam’s hungry eyes followed as Dean filled the cup almost to the rim, then said long verses in a language Sam couldn’t understand before offering the chalice to Sam. Sam took it with almost trembling hands. He stared at the crimson liquid silently for a while until he lifted his gaze to look at Dean. “Will this turn me into a demon?” Sam asked, staring at Dean. Dean nodded. “Yes”, he whispered.

Sam lifted the chalice to his lips and drank. Dean stared, his mouth slightly agape, taking in the transition happening right before his eyes. The righteous man’s downfall, the starting point of Sam’s path to Hell. The beginning and the end, alpha and omega, birth and death, all at once. Lightning lit up the room once more and thunder cracked like a whip and Dean was sure he heard angels crying, screaming at him, condemning his name to Hell and back. But Dean had become deaf, he had become blind to everything and everyone but the man before him. Sam. Dean was witnessing Sam’s rebirth and it was beautiful. How Sam’s throat worked as he drank from the cup, a small line of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and down on the priest gown, thunder on the background and the light from the candles making the shadows dance.

Sam’s soul, his darkness, was singing to Dean, calling him, luring him into its dark embrace. Sam’s hands were shaking as Dean’s blood and the runes engraved to it were replacing the humanity inside Sam. As the last drop of blood went down Sam’s throat, the chalice dropped from Sam’s trembling hands and rolled down the stairs, the sound echoing in the massive building, ‘clank, clank, clank’, beating the same rhythm as Dean’s heart. Sam had closed his eyes, his head thrown back and his lips ruby red. Then, slowly, Sam tilted his head back up, opening his eyes, a pair of black eyes meeting another pair of its kind. 

“Hello, Sam”, Dean whispered as he stared into the dark abyss of Sam’s eyes. “I can feel it now. My birthright. This is what I was meant to become. The demon blood coursing through my veins… This is my destiny”, Sam whispered, licking the last drops of blood from his lips. “My boy king”, Dean whispered huskily. Sam slid off the table and stood up to his massive height. “Kneel before the king”, Sam ordered. Dean didn’t hesitate, he didn’t protest nor second guess. He dropped to his knees before Sam, bowing his head down. Sam’s hand came to caress Dean’s hair and then his cheek. “Thank you, Dean. Thank you for showing me who I really am. Where I really belong to. Who I belong to”, Sam murmured, smiling at the demon kneeled before him.

Dean stared up at Sam. The candlelight and the light coming from the window created a ring of light behind Sam, making it look like he had a halo around his head. Dean was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it. Dean’s messiah, his savior in disguise, rescuing Dean from his miserable existence as much as Dean was rescuing Sam. Dean looked into Sam’s eyes. He swam in the pool of blackness, drowning into the endless abyss, letting it wash over him. 

Dean stood up slowly, never breaking the eye contact. Sam observed him, like a snake observes a mouse it’s about to devour in one bite. Dean leaned closer, placing his hands on both sides of Sam, splaying them on the table. “Bless me Father for I’m about to perform atrocities in the House of the Lord”, Dean whispered, his lips almost touching Sam’s but never quite. Sam’s pitch black eyes stared at Dean and even in their dark abyss Dean could see Sam observing his face with keen lust. “Forgive me Father for I’m about to sin”, Dean whispered before his lips crashed against Sam’s.

Dean felt like he was in control, he felt like his usual, dominant self but Sam soon proved him how wrong he was. Sam forced his tongue into Dean’s mouth and when Dean didn’t feel like obliging, Sam gripped Dean’s short-cropped hair and pulled his head back, forcing Dean’s jaw to loosen, letting Sam slide his tongue in, rubbing it against Dean’s with needy strokes. “Get back on your knees, Dean”, Sam growled menacingly and even though Dean didn’t feel like obeying, he found himself dropping to his knees the moment the command left Sam’s lips.

Sam smiled down at Dean, a self-satisfied smile. “Good boy, Dean. Do you wanna show me how good you can be?” Sam cooed affectionately, but his hand found its way around Dean’s throat, adding pressure at every word until Dean was gasping for air, Sam’s hand pressing against the faint bruises he had left on Dean’s skin just the morning before, his fingers finding the places they had gripped just hours ago, filling out the hand mark. Since his air supply was cut, the only thing Dean was able to do was nod. Sam smiled, clearly satisfied at Dean’s obedience. “Good boy, Dean. Now it’s time for your communion. I promise you, this one will be much more fulfilling than the one you received before. Open your mouth”, Sam growled, his voice rough and dark, sending sharp spikes of pleasure to Dean’s very core as well as to his denim-strained, hard cock.

Dean opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and staring Sam dead in the eye. Sam fumbled with his priest gown before pulling his cock out and offering it to Dean’s waiting mouth. Dean moaned as the soft, pre-cum soaked tip touched his tongue. Sam dragged the leaking tip over Dean’s tongue, giving the demon a long-desired taste. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?” Sam cooed, shoving his cock further into Dean’s willing mouth. Dean devoured it whole, taking Sam’s impressive length all the way down to his throat. “Yes, Father”, Dean managed to mumble with his mouth stretched wide around Sam’s cock.

Sam grinned wickedly. “Oh Dean, no need to be so formal, I think we’re way past that. See, my herd calls me Father but you can call me Daddy”, Sam whispered, testing Dean’s throat for a gag reflex, feeling pleased when he found none. Dean’s eyes watered as he tried to keep his eyes on Sam’s, getting off on the feeling of Sam’s hard heaviness filling his mouth and Sam’s darkness running over his skin, sinking into his every pore and filling him with a humming sound. Dean loved that sound, it reminded him of Hell and home. It sounded like the abyss was singing to him, luring him to his death like a mermaid lures unfortunate sailors to the Davy Jones’ locker.

“You feel it too. The darkness. The unfiltered, untamed eerie black substance that has bound us together since the moment we met. It’s singing to me, Dean. Telling me stories of fire and brimstone, sinking its teeth into my soul and dragging me down”, Sam hummed, his voice thick and sweet, a mere murmur escaping his throat, vibrating in the air. “This is it, Dean, the beginning of the end. From now on, the world shall burn and we will dance in the ashes”, Sam growled, his movements and the sounds escaping his throat becoming frantic, incoherent, just like the black substance that was leaking from his soul.

Sam’s hands were still on Dean’s throat, choking him slightly as he thrust his cock deeper and deeper into Dean’s mouth, caressing his fingers over Dean’s esophagus as he felt his own cock stretch it to accommodate his impressive length. “Prep yourself, Dean”, Sam ordered. Dean opened the zipper of his jeans and maneuvered them down enough to expose his perfect, round ass. Sam followed intently as Dean swept a couple of fingers over the thick layer of saliva that was covering his chin and neck and without any hesitation or tease, the demon shoved those two fingers between his ass cheeks where Sam knew he had a perfect, tight little hole just waiting to be fucked. “Now fuck yourself with your fingers the way you want me to fuck you in five minutes”, Sam whispered, mesmerized by the sight before him. 

Dean’s lost it, he absolutely fucking lost it. He started thrusting himself on his own fingers with frantic movements, his whole body trembling and swaying. Every time he rocked fort, he took Sam’s cock deeper into his mouth and every time he rocked back, his eager hole was met with his fingers plunging deeper inside it. Sam observed with fascination as Dean tried to get as much of the two sensations as he could, frantically rocking himself back and forth. Dean’s cock was also released from his boxers, it was swaying hard and heavy between his legs, bumping softly against his flushed thighs and belly, curving beautifully with a drop of precum covering the tip. 

When Sam felt like he would soon fill Dean’s entire mouth and throat if the demon didn’t stop deep-throating him, Sam pulled Dean up with one swift movement and lifted the demon on the altar table, ridding him of his pants entirely. Dean was a hot, lust-filled mess, his already full lips swollen and spit-covered, his hard nipples showing through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. Sam’s eyes followed hungrily how Dean’s cock curved against the demon’s belly, beautiful and thick. Sam used his left hand to push Dean’s thighs open even more and his right hand went between those round ass cheeks, immediately finding the quivering hole he was looking for.

Sam pushed his finger experimentally inside, receiving a satisfied moan from Dean who was panting, his black eyes wide and staring at Sam. Sam curved his finger and received another deep moan from Dean as Sam’s finger brushed over the demon’s prostate. Sam removed his finger, seeing how Dean’s hole remained slightly open even though there was nothing filling it anymore. Sam positioned his cock against Dean’s soft, willing hole and pushed in. Dean panted and gripped the table, his eyes fluttering almost shut. 

Sam pressed Dean against the table, taking the demon’s hands by the wrist and pinning them over Dean’s head as he sank into the inviting heat inside the demon. As Sam was fully inside Dean, their bodies becoming one, Dean’s cock trapped between their bellies as their solid muscles sealed it into their tight embrace, as close as it was humanly possible, their darkness bound together, forming a black abyss no light could ever escape from, Sam finally spoke, whispering into Dean’s ear: 

“Then I saw a second beast, coming out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb, but it spoke like a dragon. It exercised all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and made the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose fatal wound had been healed. And it performed great signs, even causing fire to come down from heaven to the earth in full view of the people. Because of the signs it was given power to perform on behalf of the first beast, it deceived the inhabitants of the earth. It ordered them to set up an image in honor of the beast who was wounded by the sword and yet lived. The second beast was given power to give breath to the image of the first beast, so that the image could speak and cause all who refused to worship the image to be killed. It also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads, so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. That number is 666.”

Sam’s thrusts became faster by every word, every sentence, every verse until he was fucking into Dean with force, the whole table under them shaking. Dean clung onto Sam, just desperately holding on, moaning and screaming at the same time. A lightning lit up the entire church and crack of thunder roared above them. Dean screamed at the top of his lungs. It started from the depths of his throat and Sam saw the stained-glass window above them first crack, but when Dean’s screaming got louder, the cobweb-like crack on the glass deepened. With one last thrust, Dean’s cock started pulsing, spreading his warm, pearly cum all over the demon’s belly. And as Sam screamed with Dean when he filled Dean’s hole with his seed, the window above them gave in and Sam could hear angels screaming profanities at them as the glass rained over them, forever marking their flesh and the church with the sins they had committed that night. Sins that would change the fate of the world forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bible verse Sam quotes in the end is from Revelation 13:11. And when I say that Dean woke up and then he says "technically, I don't sleep" (which I've used in other fics as well) is because I have this vision in my head how demons can go to sleep-like stage but they don't have to sleep like humans per se. But that's just my own idea I have about demons and their habits and whatnot.


End file.
